In Fine Spirits
by calltheangels
Summary: Nyquil, Whiskey, Vodka, Tequila, and of course beer. The story of how Ericka Engel touches the lives of the MacManus brothers.
1. Bar

Own nothing of BDS. Obviously. Rights to respective owners.

*In Fine Spirits

I needed a beer. It was fucking cold.

_Cold is an understatement. _I thought grimly as I pulled my blanket closer to my body. _It's fucking freezing. _

The walls of our apartment had this awful way of leaking cold air. I hated the cold. Despite the Irish blood running through my veins, I utterly despised the climate of South Boston in December- though admittedly it made hiding out in plain sight much easier. In winter, it's okay to wear pea coats, gloves, and scarves at all times. Even still, the cold brought out the Irish temper in me. Winter made me incredibly lonely, which in turn left me highly agitated.

_Thank God, mother hen isn't here. A moment of fucking peace. _

Murph was out somwhere- More than likely with Rocco, down at McGinty's. I was recovering from an ass kicking bout of the flu, spending most of my time in a Nyquil induced coma and watching bad basic cable. Murph had spent the past week watching out for me, forcing me to drink orange juice and pop vitamin c pills.

I looked over at the collection of cold medicines and vitamins on the coffee table. I wouldn't have taken any of them and manned it out, but Murph being, well, Murph, wouldn't hear any of that. "Are you bloody fuckin' stupid?" He chewed my ass the second night into my sickness. "Take them for Christ sakes! They were invented for a reason you know."

It took some doing, but after downing a rather copious amount of cold medicine, he finally relented and went out. He became more cautious and protective as time went on. With the whole 'Saints' thing- our calling card from God to splatter the brains of bad guys onto the walls- Murph had went from high strung to downright intolerable at times. I understood. I couldn't imagine losing him, living life without him next to me- but that didn't mean I wanted to be around him all the time.

_I swear I haven't even been able to take a piss this past week without him hovering around._

I sighed and sat up from the couch, stretching out my unused muscles, silently hoping I never got sick again- I couldn't take another week of illness with Doctor Murphy. I yawned widely, and looked over at the clock. 10 pm. I ran a hand through my dirty hair. Actually, my whole body was dirty. Laying around for a week doing absolutely nothing had killed my motivation. _When was the last time I showered? _I honestly couldn't remember. I think I spent most of my time too doped out of my mind to really give a rat's ass about how I smelled.

I wandered over to the shower, and stripped down naked, praying that the shower would spit out some hot water. For once, I got my wish, and I stood under the sputtering shower head, taking care to finish before the hot water ran dry. I got out and wrapped a tower around my waist, trying to figure out what to do with my night. It wasn't a smart idea for me to get tanked right after getting over the flu. On the other hand I was going to go nuts- as in cabin fever, Jack Nicholson in the Shining nuts- if I didn't find something to do with my night. Another evening filled with tv sitcoms and cough syrup was just not an option.

_McGinty's it is then. _

I walked the four or so blocks to the bar, and found it full of people. Murph and Rocco were sitting at the bar while Doc- affectionately known as 'Fuck Ass'- talked to them and tended to the drunk people. I walked over and took a seat next to Rocco and clapped him on the back.

"Hey man! What the fuck is going on? Thought you was on your death bed or some shit!" yelled Rocco. Murph smirked at me.

"Yeah, Connor, nice to see you out of bed. Got enough beauty rest, did ya?"

"Ah, shut it Murph. Hey, Fuck Ass!" I flagged down the cooky old bartender. "Gimme a Guinness when you get a chance."

Doc slide a bottle down the bar to me. I popped it open and took a long drink.

_Much better than Nyquil. _

We spent a good chunk of the night doing guy shit- starting bar fights, telling stories of sexual exploits, and trying to out drink each other. I, for once, was pretty sober. Murph and Rocco couldn't say the same. They were in the middle of their fifth round of shots when a women walked into the bar. I didn't take much notice of her, at first.

She came up to the bar and sat down. I predicted her order- something weak and girlie. She had to be a lightweight- She was a petite thing.

"Excuse me, sir." She tried to get Doc's attention.

"It's more effective if you call him Fuck Ass." I said in between sips. She looked at me oddly.

I shrugged. "It works."

"Excuse me, Fuck ass-" She spoke softly. Seemed her size fit her personality.

"No, no, you got to yell it lass. Yell it. Come on. Can't be that difficult."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "YO! FUCK ASS!" She yelled.

I was shocked. She could make noise after all. Doc hurried up to the bar.

"What'll you have?" he asked, before the explicatives 'Fuck!" and "Ass!" escaped his mouth.

"Um, I'll take a jack and coke. Heavy on the jack- No, fuck it. Just give me a jack on the rocks." So much for a girlie drink.

I went back to sipping my drink, observing her out of the corner of my eye. She had dark brown hair that was pulled back into a tight bun, and she had dark circles around her eyes and was wearing scrubs with a long sleeve thermal underneath. This lady- whatever her name was- looked as if she had the weight of the world riding on her back. I didn't normally talk to strangers- especially since the aforementioned 'calling card'. But considering the fact Murph and Rocco were both plastered, what else did I have to do? Besides, she looked like she could use an ear.

"Long day at work?" I asked.

She nodded her headed. "Very."

Silence passed in between us for a few moments. "So what are you, a doctor?" I tried again.

"I'm a nurse." She snapped. "Why? What do you do?"

"Entrepreneur of sorts." I invented off the top of my head. "You looked like you're having a shitty night. Though I'd try and talk you out your bad mood. Can't stand to see a lass having anything to complain about."

It wasn't a pickup line. I held a soft spot in my heart for females. They were gentle, loving, empathetic- all the things our mother was. Evidently, the lady next to me didn't believe me.

"Pfft. Right." She drained the last bit of whiskey in her glass. "Like you really care if I'm having a bad day or not, or if anyone for that matter is. Hey, fuck ass, gimme another jack, no ice?"

"I'll pay for it, Doc. Put it on out tab." Doc nodded as he set the glass down in front of her.

"Alright, lady. We're gonna get you in a better mood. First off, what's your name?"

"Ericka. And yours?"

"Connor. Would you happen to be Irish?"

Ericka looked bemused. "Yeah, I am actually. A quarter anyway. The rest of me is German. Why?"

"Well, you're in an irish pub. Come on. Normal people don't just walk in here." I tapped on my temple. "Gotta be born a little drunk, you see."

"You mean, like those two?" She nodded to Murph and Rocco, who were drunkenly headbanging to an old hair metal song that just came on the radio.

I cringed. "That's….my brother, Murph. And friend, Rocco."

"Rocco looks like a package runner for the mob." She said matter of factly. My face went white. Rocco was indeed a package runner.

"Come again?"

She shrugged. "He looks like a lacky for the mafia is all."

"Ah." I drank the last bit of beer I had left. "Well, I better get them home before they start a bar fight." I stood up.

"Does this happen often?"

"Yeah, bout every time we come here."

"No, I meant the drink. You pay for every poor girl's drink when she comes in here?" she said amused.

"No ma'am." I smiled at her. She had a light in her eyes that hadn't been there before- making her look a great deal prettier. "Come here often?"

"Nah. I'm new to town."

"Ah. Had some old friends living here or something?"

"Nope. Wanted something new. Speaking of friends, you should go help yours. Looks like all hell is about to break loose."

As if on cue, the sounds of breaking glass and shouts of drunken men sounded. I sighed. "Well, it was nice talking to you. See ya around."

She raised her glass as I walked over to Murph and Rocco, and started to drag them home.


	2. Church

Murph and Rocco were passed out on the couch. Rocco had his head all the way back, mouth open and snoring obnoxiously loud. Murph was curled up in a ball- it was the way he had slept since birth. For his tough guy demeanor, he let his emotions show through in his sleep. I would hear him wake up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath and drenched in a cold sweat. His nightmares had become much more frequent since we did our first job-taking out the Russian underbosses. I took to leaving a pack of cigarettes and lighter on the table by his bed- my way of saying I understood. I hated that we couldn't verbally express our feelings. The connection we had as twins allowed us to know exactly what was going on with the other- but that didn't mean it would hurt to talk about it. Murph was stubborn, insisting he was fine if I asked.

I stood in the kitchen of our one bedroom apartment, watching them for a while. I still couldn't grasp our new career as God's hired hit men. However convicted Murph was in the whole thing, I had a hard time accepting it. There was a difference between killing in self defense and killing because you enjoyed it.

Did I find pleasure in taking the life of another man?

The adrenaline rush, the danger- that aspect I loved. And I loved the fact that ultimately we were making the world a better place- taking out scum that roamed free.

But seeing the blood of someone else on my hands- that I wasn't so sure I could ever fully accept.

_I hope the good Lord knows what he's doing, because I sure as hell don't. _

I crossed myself, and then turned to the coffee maker. I couldn't function until I had my morning cup (or three) of coffee and a cigarette. I poured myself a cup and picked up yesterday's newspaper that I had been too drugged up to read, leaning against the counter.

"What fuckin' time is it man?" came Murph's voice from the couch. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, hair sticking up at weird angles.

"About 1 in the afternoon. Got a bit toasted last night, didn't ya?" I smirked into my coffee cup as he stood up and immediately sat back down on the couch.

"Fuckin' shit. My head feels fuckin' terrible."

"I'd be surprised if it didn't. That guy had a pretty good left hook."

"How did that fight even start? One moment, me and Roc were drinking, the next that bloke was throwing punches!"

"Well," I said as I took another drink of coffee, "I think you called the packers queer."

Murph's jaw dropped. "THAT'S WHAT THE FUCKING FIGHT WAS OVER?"

"Yup."

"Fucking Christ… Some people get so damn offended."

I set down my cup and the newspaper. "Thought you liked offending people?"

"Not when I can't take them in a fight."

I threw a bottle of Tylenol in the direction of the couch and walked to the bedroom to find clothes. The bottle landed on Roc's forehead, prompting him to sit bolt right up with the words "What the fuck?"

"Hurry up. We've got somewhere to be."

Murph raised an eyebrow. "And where is that?"

"Church."

We entered the church, shivering from the harsh cold outside. Roc stormed off after his rude awakening, swearing up and down that God would understand how a hangover would hinder one's ability to pray, leaving me and Murph alone. Murph even protested going.

"Connor, are you sure this can't wait? My head is fuckin' throbbing."

"I haven't been to church in a week. Need to make up for it."

Murph sighed, and fell silent. He understood- we never went to church without the other. One of those weird twin things.

We sat down in pew in the front, pulled are rosaries out of our coats, and bowed our heads. I heard Murph saying his prayers in a hushed whisper. I closed my eyes and clutched tight to my rosary. My thoughts from the morning came to mind.

"Breathe into me Holy Spirit, that all my thoughts may be holy. Move in me, Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy." I spoke in Latin- the only time it seemed appropriate to speak the archaic language was within the walls of a church.

Murph stirred next to me, and rose from the pew, evidently finished. I heard a softer voice behind me whispering the same prayer I had been in the middle of. "Attract my heart, Holy Spirit, that I may love only what is holy. Strengthen me, Holy Spirit, that I may defend all that is holy." They waited for me to continue.

I swallowed and then continued. "Protect me, Holy Spirit-"

"-that I always may be holy."

"Amen." I looked up and peered over my shoulder. A dark haired female sat behind me, her head bowed. I tucked away my rosary, and turned fully in my seat to stare at her.

She looked up at me, and I was suddenly unaware of anything around me but her. Her dark hair flowed in waves, her skin was pale and flawless, and her eyes- my God, her eyes- were the most beautiful things I had ever seen- bright, intense green. Circles were dark underneath them, but it hardly took away from her beauty- if anything, it enhanced it.

"Well, look who it is." Her voice was deep for a woman's- but strangely soothing, like a good harmonic line in a piece of music. "Connor, isn't it?"

I nodded my head. _Who the hell is this chick? How does she know my name?_

"I'm afraid I don't recognize you, 'mam. How do you know me?"

She smirked. "You bought my glass of whiskey last night.:

"Ericka?" Her smirk widened into a grin.

_Wow_. In the bright light of the church, she looked much more…. Alive. I suppose the bad lighting of the bar and being doped out of my mind on cold medicine hadn't really let me get a close look at her.

I cleared my throat. "Well, what are you doing here? Didn't know you Germans were devout with your church going."

"We're not." She chuckled. "I just needed to have a conversation with the good Lord."

"Are you Catholic then?"

"Ha! As if. " Her laugh was a tad loud, earning a disapproving look from a passing priest. "I don't really have a set denomination. A house of God is a house of God- and this church just so happens to be on my way to work."

I glanced down at her outfit. She was wearing tennis shoes and scrubs underneath a long black coat. I forgot there was a hospital a few blocks from here.

And then before I could even process the words coming out of mouth, "Would you like to go grab a drink when you get off work?" My face reddened as I thought about what had just happened.

_I just asked out a chick that I have talked to for all of ten minutes, in a church. I asked her to go out to a bar with me (very classy) while sitting in a church pew (very trashy), with a priest ten feet away from me. What the hell is wrong with me?_

_I must have a real drinking problem. Or a deathwish. _

Ericka cocked her head to the side. She suddenly reminded me of a dog that was staring at its potential prey, determining if it was worth the hunt.

"Sure."

I blinked. "Sure? You're sure?" I stumbled over my words like a moron.

"No, I'm just agreeing to it so that you'll get excited and all worked up only to be disappointed and crushed when I stand you up." She tapped her forehead with her ring finger. "Yes, I'd love to get a drink with you after work." My mouth feel open, and I lost the ability to speak for a few seconds.

_Did that really just happen?_

She stood up, and exited the row. I stood up and followed her. "Um, you didn't tell me where you want to go, or what time you get off."

She looked back at me briefly. "Same time, same place. Look for the girl wearing green scrubs with an aura of absolute irritation on account of her job. You'll find me." She turned around and continued walking. I watched her as she opened the heavy doors to the church and stepped into the cold.

I stood there baffled. _Same time, same place? _

_Oh. McGinty's. Duh. _

Someone clapped me roughly on the shoulder. "So, tell me brother, how do you do it?"Murph looked amused. I shrugged, still dumbfounded by the turn of events.

"Guess girls like the accent."

Murph snorted. "If that were the case we'd both have women flinging themselves at us left and right." He turned serious as we exited the church.

"Sure you want to get involved with someone right now?"

I lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag. "Chances are we'll have one awesome sex filled night and then never talk to each other again. No harm in that."

Murph lit up his own cancer stick. He knew me better than anyone, and knew the words I just spoke were pure and utter bullshit. I didn't sleep around with random women. It was downright disrespectful in my opinion. The one time I had a one night stand I was a wreck for weeks after the fact. It drove me insane that I had sunk that low. Don't get me wrong. The sex was great- I did some insane things with that particular woman that were downright sinful- but it was just sex. Without that spiritual connection, it seemed so…. Meaningless. I hadn't touched a woman since then.

Murph decided to let it go. "Right. Either way, use your head." He walked ahead of me now, taking another deep drag. "Not just for your sake..."

The unvoiced words hung in the air.

_But for the Saints' sake. _


	3. Date

**A/N-Apologies for any grammatical and/or spelling errors. I've gotten really into this story, and wanted to post it ASAP. I'll go back and correct them later, I swear!** **All rights to whoever they belong to- I can only wish to write something as badass as BDS.**

I was at McGinty's right at ten pm, dressed in (literally) my Sunday best. I felt like a friggen high school girl who was going on her first date.

Murph gave me hell as I searched the apartment for clothes that were clean. "Never seen you this worked up over a date before. Sure you're not turning into a sissy on me?"

"Piss off."

"No, no really. It's a bit of a change. Perhaps it's for the better." He glanced around at the shabby bachelor pad. "Ya know, this is place could use a bit of tidying up, don't ya think?" He sipped on a beer. "When you get home, why don't ya do the dishes or somethin' and make yourself useful. You know. Since girlie is your new thing now."

"Shut your mouth."

"Make me." His lips curled into a smirk. "You girlie girl."

The resulting fist fight did little to shut Murph up. As I walked out the door he yelled in an octave higher than his normal voice, "Be back by eleven or I'm lockin' your ass out!" It reminded me uncannily of how Ma used to yell at us when we were teens. Admittedly, her empty threats did little good- We hardly listened to her back then, and I'd be damned if I was gonna listen- to my own damn brother- now.

I scanned the darkened pub for her, anxiously. I rubbed the back of my neck- a sort of nervous tick, much like Murph's nail biting habit.

_What if she's not here? _

A firmer, far more confident voice sounded in my head. _She's here._

I kept looking and in the very darkest and most hidden place of the bar- I found her, hair pulled into a bun, wearing green scrubs and with the unapproachable aura she had promised.

I made my way over to her. "This seat taken?" I asked nervously.

Ericka looked up at me and grinned. "Well…there was this guy that was supposed to meet me, but I think he stood me up. It's alright though- you're far better looking."

I felt the blood rush to my face, grateful for the bad lighting as I took a seat across the table from here.

She had taken the liberty of ordering my drink for me- A Guinness. A girl after my own heart. I popped the cap off the bottle and took a drink. "Thank you." I said.

She raised an eyebrow. "For the beer or the compliment?"

I laughed. "Both."

We talked for a long time after. She was far from the soft spoken and meek girl I had mistaken her for the night before- She was vivacious, fierce, and had a biting wit that could put my dear brother to shame.

Another plus- she was a movie buff. Just as Doc announced last call, we fell into a full on debate on the practicality of rope.

"It's fuckin' necessity!" I all but yelled.

Ericka slammed her palms on the table. "It's fuckin' for aesthetic purposes!" She was so into our faux argument- and I loved the fact she was so serious about it.

She had passion.

_A breath of fresh air. _

"Name _one_ goddamn thing you would ever need a rope for."

I cleared my throat, trying hard to suppress the laugh as I recalled the first job Murph and I did. "Well, say you were crawling through an air vent, looking for some bad guys to take out, when the vent collapses and lands you in the very room you need to be in- and that rope just so happens to suspend you in the air, leaving you to take out the bad guys in mere seconds."

Ericka's laughter filled my ears. "HA! Only in the movies. That's some Charlie Bronson shit if I've ever heard it."

I felt my face break into a giant shit-eating grin. "My brother shares the same views as you do, that is on the subject of rope. Now your view on the Red Sox, well, that's debatable."

"I'm telling ya! The Royals are gonna kick ass next season! Who needs the Red Sox, man? You Boston fucks-"

Doc appeared at our table. "Connor, as much as I like ya, y-you and your lady friend n-n-need to- FUCK! ASS!" He composed himself before continuing. "Ya need to leave so I can shut the place down. You two are the only ones left."

I looked around the crowded bar- only to find it was indeed empty, and that the giant Guinness clock on the wall read 3am.

"Shit, I'm sorry Doc. We'll get outta your hair." We rose up from our seats, and absently I left money on the table for our drinks- only to find Ericka had already laid out more than enough to cover our drinks.

_This girl is two steps ahead of me._

We left the bar, and started walking down a side street. I got the chills suddenly- ones that had nothing to do with the driving wind around us. Something didn't seem right, despite the fact I had greatly enjoyed my night.

I touched Ericka's arm and she halted her walking. "Hey, would ya mind if I walked you home? It's not safe for a lass to be walking around this late."

She raised her eyebrows. "I've managed to take care of myself thus far. I think I'll be fine."

I looked down at her and saw that she was convinced of her own safety. I bit my lip a little, and sighed.

"Alright… if you say so." My better judgment was screaming at me. I pulled out a piece of paper and pen out of my pocket and wrote my number down. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" She frowned as I handed her the sheet of paper.

"Paranoid much?" she tucked the paper into her coat pocket.

Without meaning to, I fell into a tangent- A real MacManus trait. "There are so many bad things out there- bad people." I looked her dead in the eye. "You really don't know."

Her eyes turned steely. "You have no idea of what I do or don't know." It wasn't a challenge- it was a statement of fact, and one I wasn't about to argue with.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I wasn't trying to call you ignorant or offend you. Really. I just…" I redirected my thoughts away from my dead on intuition- didn't want to freak the poor girl out and make her think I was some sort of freak.

_You are a freak, Connor. You go around and kill bad guys for a living._

_But the guys you kill are evil- bad, evil, corrupt men who have sinned. _

'_Thou shall not kill.' One of the ten commandments- and it's one that you have broken several times over now. _

The internal dialogue raged on in my head, and with some effort I pushed it off to the back of my mind- at least for the moment.

"I just couldn't live with myself if something happened to you. Granted, I've known you for all of a day, but I can tell. You're a good person. You save people for a living- that says a lot right there."

She cut me off mid-tirade. "You can't save every good person out there. Believe me, I'd know." She looked up at me. I felt a jolt go through me- her green eyes were such a distraction.

She placed her hands on my shoulders. "I'll call you when I make it home- in one piece." She stood on her tip toes and kissed my cheek. She smiled at me as she turned to walk away.

I put a hand on my cheek- right where her lips made contact with my skin. "Promise?" I yelled after her.

She held up three fingers without looking back. "Scout's honor!" She yelled as she turned the corner.

I watched her walk away, and stood silently. I pulled out a cigarette and lit up, taking a deep drag before I started my walk home.

My brain was on auto pilot. The route from McGinty's to the apartment was so engraved in my head; I could navigate it even in the drunkest stupor. I was surprised I hadn't worn a path in the damn concrete. Tonight, it wasn't a drunken stupor I walked through. It was the inner war that raged inside me- so frequent as of late- that distracted me from my walk. I had never bothered to question good and evil, the word of God, and _never _my instincts. Between my new career and this new girl, I was bound to either drop dead or drive myself mad. Both seemed likely.

_What in the fuck are you thinking, letting her walk herself home? Do you want her to get raped or mugged? _

Another voice in my head cut in.

_She seemed so sure of herself though…_

_WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING? TURN AROUND- NOW!_

_She'd be so angry if she found you following her. Pissed wouldn't even begin to cover it._

_But she won't be pissed if she falls into the wrong hands, the wrong situation and you save her from it. _

"Fuck!" Instead of hanging a left on the street we lived on, I turned right and kept walking-listening hard for any sound that seemed out of the ordinary. Four blocks later, I finally heard something- proving my intuition right once again.

_If it's my job to protect the innocent and the good, then apparently I suck at it. _

My thoughts turned serious.

_If Ericka's hurt, I will never forgive myself. _

I ran like hell until I found the source of the commotion. I reached into my coat and pulled out my gun- one of many I owned. I rounded the corner and took aim- and then let my arms drop to my side.

Ericka- tiny little Ericka- was kicking some major scumbag ass.

One guy was laying face down in the street, while the other guy was getting the living shit beat out of him. I watched in awe as Ericka delivered a well aimed blow to the guy's temple, causing him to crumple to the ground.

"Holy mother of God."

Ericka looked up and crossed her arms, breathing normally.

_She didn't even break a sweat._

She sauntered over to me. "So, Mr. MacManus. Care to explain why you followed me home?" She glanced at my weapon, voice suddenly sarcastic. "And do you even know how to shoot that thing?"

I nodded my head. "Yes, I can shoot a gun, quite well if I say so myself." Her eyes pierced me. I held my hands up and dropped the gun at my feet. "And I'm sorry I followed you home. I just had this gut feeling." My voice trailed off. She rolled her eyes at me.

"Look, I'm sorry, I really am. I just couldn't let you walk alone in good conscious… though apparently you can take good care of yourself."" I waved to the two guys on the ground, who were still alive, judging by the rise and fall of their chests. "What were they trying to do anyway?"

She laughed. "Tried to sell me some drugs. I doubt they're legit dealers- just a couple kids trying to support their bad habits. They looked pretty damn young. Anyway, I decided to rough 'em up a bit- hopefully knock some sense into them." She paused as she looked at my facial expression- one of sheer disbelief.

Ericka seemed to lose her self-restraint then. "Look, it's not like I pulled a Saints on them, okay? They'll wake up roughed up but they'll be _fine. _Stop looking at me like that!"

I cocked my head at her, intrigued. "Same principle, isn't it?

She waved her arms, hands clenching to fists at her sides. "I suppose." I could see her breath as she spoke- reminding me of how cold it was outside.

"Alright, no more talking about ethics or debating if good guys are bad." I reached out and touched her cheek. "Let me walk you the rest of the way home. Please?"

She sighed, and playfully punched me in the arm. "I guess. You'll just follow me if I say no."

I put my arm around her shoulders and held her to my side as we walked. It was strangely comforting to me.

The inner battle started again.

_Don't get too attached. Sounds like she's not fond of the Saints. _

I ignored it until we arrived at her apartment. She turned to me as she stood on the bottom step. "Would you like to come in…?" She was just tall enough to look at me without looking _up_ at me.

I swallowed hard, fighting the male reaction of, "Fuck yes, let's do it!" I wanted to see this woman again.

"I better not. Got some business to take care of tomorrow." I picked my words carefully. "Heading out of town for a few days." She nodded her head.

"When will I get to see you again, my fine Irishman?" Her lips twisted into a smirk, evidently finding her words cheese-tastic.

My stomach turned over. "Soon," I promised.

The whole world stopped for a few brief moments as she leaned forward, lips parted. I met her halfway. Her hands were in my hair as I wrapped my arms around her tiny body. Heat rose up to my cheeks; my head was light.

Never in my life had I ever experienced this feeling- the world could have been crashing down around me and I wouldn't have cared.

As we broke apart, my heart was pounding and I had to fight to not pull her back to me. I wanted her- and not just in the sexual sense. I wanted all of her.

She smiled as she walked into her apartment building without a word.

It wasn't until I was home in my apartment- with my gun, and the ID's of the two punks Ericka had beaten the crap out of- that I found a note in my coat pocket. Written on a napkin from McGinty's in neat cursive was a phone number with the words, "Call me, Irishman. Ps- The name is Engel. Thought you'd like to know. "

_Engel. Figures her last name translates to 'Angel.' _


	4. Jose

**All rights to whoever. **

"So…. Let me get somethin' straight here."

Murph nailed me with a piercing gaze. "This girl, Ericka, wouldn't let you walk her home, so you took the liberty of following her home- only to find her beating the living shit out of not one, but two street punks, and didn't seem fazed by the fact you pulled out a gun."

"Aye. She doubted my ability to use the thing." Murph snorted. I was a damn good shot- just as good as Murph- and that was saying a lot.

He chewed on his thumb. "And she addressed you by last name? Isn't that a bit odd? How'd she find out what our last name is?" I hadn't thought of that. I couldn't remember telling her.

"No idea. Perhaps she asked Doc at some point?"

"Maybe."

Murph let out a sigh, and leaned forward in his chair. "Connor. Something doesn't seem right here. " He paused, thumb back in mouth. "I can't explain it. She said she was new to the neighborhood, right?" I nodded my head in confirmation. "I swear, I've seen her in McGinty's before. Why would she wander into an Irish bar? It's not like she's Irish or anything- she hasn't got the accent."

I frowned. "She told me she was a quarter Irish. And you've never talked to her, how would you know?"

"She came into the church after we did; I heard her praying. And I'm almost positive I hit on her at the bar one night." He smirked. "Frigid woman. She didn't say anything to me. Typical, you manage to melt the ice queen."

"Stop complaining! You normally manage to get the girls anyway- let me have my moment of glory!"

Murph laughed, and then picked up the ID's of the kids Ericka laid out. "So, these are the two idiots, eh? They look pretty harmless to me. Why'd she pummel them again?"

"Tried to sell her drugs."

"Well, we best keepin' an eye on them. Make sure they stay on the straight and narrow, eh? In the meantime, we've got us another job."

"Know any details?"

"Not much, just what Roc told us over the phone before you went out." He paused. "You sure you know what you're doing?"

"Of course. We plan this shit out, follow the plan, it's a one-two-three thing-"

"I meant with the girl."

I met Muprh's intense gaze. He had that look- like he was trying to search me. There was no trying to get around him- I couldn't lie to him. I let out a deep breath. "Not a damn clue."

"You've known her for a whole two days. I'm not trying to say that there couldn't be something there- there could be, eventually. But you've got to be careful. Considering what we do and all. Give it time, Conn."

"Oh shut yer fuckin' mouth. You're acting like I went and proposed to the damn girl. It was one date- one measly little date-"

"Yah, and you followed her home-"

"Because I had a feeling she'd get into trouble-"

"And she's perfectly friggen capable. Any idiot could see that."

"What in the fuck are ye talking about?" My accent became noticeably thicker, as it tended to do when I became irritated. Muprh looked at me incredulously.

"It's in the way she carries herself- like nothing can fuckin' touch her. Hell, even Roc noticed it at the bar- and we both know how unobservant he is with a bit of liquor in 'em!"

I leaned back in my chair, hands folded behind my head. He had a point. She exuded self confidence every other time I had seen her- except for that first time at the bar. Why had she been so soft spoken then?

_She 'bout bit my head off when I asked about her job_. Obviously she wasn't afraid to pull out her claws when needed.

God. Women confused me.

"So, when's Roc gonna get here and explain shit?" Murph took the hint to redirect conversation. "Should be here anytime-"

And right on cue, Roc burst through the front door. Roc had this odd knack of unplanned, but impeccable timing. Made life seem more like a movie.

"So, boys, I got a lead."

"Aye. Go on with it then."

Roc plopped down in a chair. "So, there's these drug lords, down in the Spanish neighborhood. Real pieces of work. They recruit kids- 15 or 16 year old kids- to push for 'em. Supposed to be compensation, or repayment for smuggling their families into the country. Biggest load of shit ever."

We all lit up a cigarette. "How'd you find this out?"

"When I went back to my place hungover as fuck while you guys took off to church. There were some kids that tried to sell to me." His face broke into an evil grin. "Asked what they thought the Saints would do if they got their hands on them. One of the kids eventually broke down, told me everything."

Murph gave me a look, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. I had to agree with him.

"Roc, you can't just go and use our name as a scare tactic. People know you hang around us. Eventually someone will put two and two together. If someone ID'd you, you be screwed."

"We all would be screwed." Muprh cut in. "Ya gotta be careful man. This is God's work we're doing here. Don't want anything interfering with that."

_Murph is so convinced that what we're doing is right. Why can't I be that sure of it?_

I focused on the conversation going on without me. If this was God's work we were doing, then I was going to be damn sure I at least had a say in how it happened.

Later that night, we were walking in Roc's neighborhood, meeting up with the kid who had confessed to Roc. In order to pull off a hit, we needed all the info we could get.

I wasn't comfortable with the idea of meeting the kid face to face, but it seemed like the only real way to be sure of what was going on. Muprh was like a human lie detector- no one could get anything past him. It was sort of the same thing as my dead on intuition. Call it a gift from God if you wish; I had to admit, Murph's gift seemed to serve a much more practical purpose than mine did.

So there were, in an alleyway in the Mexican neighborhood. Roc split with us to go get the kid and bring him to where we were. I leaned against a wall; smoking in the hopes nicotine would calm my nerves down. Murph leaned against the wall opposite of me, looking out for any signs of danger.

Footsteps echoed off the walls, and we immediately jumped into attack mode. It was only Roc, with a young teen walking ahead of him. The kid had a black eye. He looked familiar, though I couldn't think of where I might have seen him before.

Roc nodded at us, signaling that everything was all clear.

"So kid, what's your name?" asked Murph.

"Jose Rodriguez." He had a Spanish accent.

_The name rings a bell…_

"Alright, Jose. You need to tell us everything- who you're working for, who you got here- anything you can think of. The entire story is what we're looking for here. It's the only way we can help you."

"My family comes from Mexico. We met a man there who said he could help us, so long as we worked for him once we got here. He fed us, clothed us, got us our apartment." He looked down, and his eyes darkened. "We didn't know he'd make us push drugs. We didn't know he'd pimp out my sister. We didn't know he'd take our father from us." His voice broke. "I don't know what his name is- we were all told to call him 'The Otets.' He's a white male, has some sort of accent. Seen him once, though he phones often- to tell us where to pick up drugs, what corner my sister is supposed to work, where to send payment. That kind of thing." As he spoke, all the anger he contained seemed to exude from his every pore. "I'm sick of the shit. I'm sick of seeing my sister in pieces, I'm sick of pushing for the stupid fuck- I got the living shit beat out of me last night by some woman because I fucking sell."

He broke into rapid Spanish. I had a hard time understanding him- Spanish wasn't my best language.

And then it clicked- Ericka had beaten the shit out of him last night. _What are the fuckin' chances of that?_

Murph looked over at me, mirroring my same thoughts on his face. We turned back to Jose and waited for him to calm down. He wiped a few tears from his face, and took a deep breath. "Look, I don't know who you two are- you could be the mother fuckin' Saints for all I know- but he-"jabbing a finger in Roc's direction, "Told me you could help. So. Can you fucking help me or not?"

Murph looked at me. _What's your gut feeling on this one? _He silently asked me.

All in all, he seemed like a good kid. He could grow up and escape his present lifestyle. There was hope for him.

"Alright. We'll help ya. But not a damn word to anyone about us- we can't help if we get taken out." He nodded his head, almost feverishly.

"Do you know when you're supposed to pick up your next batch of drugs?"

"Yeah. Later tonight, a few blocks from here."

"What time?"

"Nine o'clock."

I looked to Murph, who nodded.

"Alright. Lead the way."

We followed Jose in the shadows, careful to be silent and unseen. He looked completely calm. It was unnerving, considering how he had been violently angry and upset mere minutes before.

Roc circled around the block. Murph and I stopped in front of pawn shop, and leaned against the wall, smoking and looking unfazed, though all of our senses were on high alert.

We heard rough voices in the alley. Carefully, we edged towards the alley, staying in the dark.

"Jose, my dear boy."

"Otets. It's nice to see you." He greeted him like an old friend.

"Don't play that game with me." The speaker's voice was deep, and had a very thick Russian accent. "I know you're angry with me."

Murph's eyes widened as my 'oh shit' instincts kicked in. This wasn't going to end well.

"I don't understand." Jose tried to lie.

"Yes you do. You're ungrateful for all I've done for you and your family. You no longer wish to help out my business. You're sister is just as ungrateful. She refuses to provide services to my-" he paused, searching for the word. "Clients. So I've decided, since you do not care to repay me, I will save everyone the trouble."

O_h fucking shit. _

"Where's my sister?" Jose said in a voice of attempted calm. I heard the waiver there, the panic evident.

"In the car. We had a little chat with her before we came here. " He switched to Russian. "Get her, Hans."

There was more than one bad guy-for lack of a better term- out there in the alley. _Damnit! We should have known better. We should have had a plan for this shit, scoped out the area_...

Murph looked to me. _ What the fuck do we do?_

I waved my hand. _Kill the fucking bastards._

Muprh rolled his eyes and nodded. We pulled out our guns, and waited for the right moment. Timing seemed to be the key to every other job we had ever done- this one was no exception.

There were sounds of a scuffle. "On your knees, girl!"

"Fuck you!" There was a sharp smack, and a thud.

"Maria!" Jose screamed. There was another smack and a thud.

"Get up, you stupid spics, get the fuck on your knees."

There was a long pause before we heard the cocking of a gun.

"Hans, once you're done with this, drive us to the lounge. I want a drink." Otets spoke once again in Russian.

Muprh tensed next to me.

"Now."

We rounded the corner and took aim at the Russian man's lacky. He had his gun trained on Jose, who held his sister in a death grip. I couldn't see her face, but I saw the blood that soaked her dress. Muprh fired at Hans landing a perfect headshot. He crumpled to the ground, fragments of his brain landing on the concrete under him. I tore off after the car that had started as soon as we came around the corner. It made a sharp turn onto a busy and well lighted street. I couldn't get a shot in without being seen.

"Connor!" Muprh's voice called out to me. "She needs a hospital. _Now!_"

I turned back to Jose and his sister. I winced when I looked at her. Some 'chat' they'd had indeed. I cursed the Russian man. I'd fucking get him.

"Guys, what the fuck happened?" Came Roc's voice. I heard him running behind me. "Are you alright?"

"She's not. Where's the nearest hospital, Roc?"

"A few streets from here."

"Let's fucking go. _Now_!" Muprh was frantic, feeding off Jose's silent panic and desperation. He picked her up carefully.

Roc led the way as we weaved through side streets, trying to avoid being seen. The hospital was about five blocks away- Murph all but ran with her in his arms. Jose looked lost and terrified. I wanted to comfort him, but I had no idea what to say.

_What do you say to someone when their sister is on the verge of death?_

We entered the hospital, Muprh and Jose covered in Maria's blood; Roc and I were right behind them.

"We need a fuckin' doctor!" Murph yelled at the top of his lungs.

I didn't hear anything else beyond that. I didn't watch as a nurse and a doctor wheeled Maria out of the waiting room on a gurney, and I didn't watch as Jose shook violently, trying to keep his grief in.

I saw Ericka Engel, standing in scrubs, staring at me. Her eyes were wide as she looked from me to my blood splattered brother to Jose. Without a word, she followed the doctor and other nurse out of the waiting room. I sat down in a chair and watched numbly as Murph tried to comfort an inconsolable Jose.

_It's going to be a long night._

_**Review? :)**_


	5. The Catch

**A/N- I decided to try something new this chapter- different POV. I like how it worked out, personally. **

All rights to whoever.

Murph paced back and forth, fidgeting, alternating between chewing on his thumb and running a hand through his hair. Jose was surprisingly calm as he sat between Rocco and me. It was strange, considering minutes before he had been quaking with rage and anxiety. Roc tapped his foot, sometimes shifting in his seat. I stared straight ahead, trying to cover our bases.

_Wrong time, wrong place. That's all it was. _

It was _probable_ that two kids would stumble into the middle of a drug deal.

It was _probable_ three people would stumble across the kids that had stumbled into a drug deal.

And it was _probable_ that said three strangers would help the said two kids stumble into the emergency room.

Probable, possible, but not likely.

_The cops are gonna get called. They won't believe this pile of shit anymore than I do. _

I glanced up and Murph. He roamed around the waiting room the way a lion roams its cage at the zoo. I knew he was taking this hard- We had never- _never_- lost an innocent life before. Murph felt like it was his fault that Maria was hurt- I didn't have to ask him to know. In my opinion, there wasn't much we could have done- had we moved sooner, we only would have gotten hurt ourselves, and probably gotten Jose or Roc killed in the process. The thought that rattled around in my brain was the fact that we didn't take those fuckers out.

_It was TWO GUYS. TWO FUCKING GUYS_.

That should have been a fucking piece of cake. Instead, we took out the lackey, the other guy- the head honcho- getting away, leaving us with a bleeding little girl and her kid brother.

_Why weren't we prepared? _

That was easily solved. We hadn't planned on taking anyone out- all we planned on doing was talking to the kid. We didn't have all of our gear on –just our guns. To add to our sheer stupidity in the whole situation, we hadn't been properly covered up- our neck tats were a dead giveaway to the man who called himself Otets- we had been ID'd, indefinitely marked.

_How fuckin' stupid can three people get? _It baffled me. Out of Roc, Murph, and myself, not a one of us thought to maybe have a little caution- No, we just dived right in, digging a giant whole and making a mess out of everything.

"What a clusterfuck." I murmured aloud.

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

I jumped a foot out of my chair, as did Roc. Ericka stood in front of me, expression blank.

Murph pounced on Ericka. "The girl- will she be alright?"

"Yeah, I want to know how my sister is doing. Is she alive?" Jose spoke in a low, calm voice, but his eyes flashed. Ericka looked around quickly before kneeling in front of us.

"Yeah, she's alive. I can't give specifics yet, but she's going to be fine. In a few minutes, a doctor is going to come out here and talk to you, and rest assured, the cops are on their way- protocol to call in a gunshot wound. Better have your story straight- that little girl is lucky to be alive. As for you three-" She looked `around at us. "You're going to get the fuck out of here. You're going to meet me in front of my apartment in exactly one hour, and you're going to explain everything. And I fucking mean _everything._"

She spoke with such firm authority- I wasn't about to challenge her. Nodding my head with an almost whispered, "yes ma'am" we stood up one at a time and left the E.R. I felt Ericka's eyes burning into my back as I left the building.

"What in the fuck are we going to do?" Roc asked. He was panicking, and it was starting to grade on my nerves.

"We're going to go and talk to her. We don't have much of choice. She can turn us in." Murph was silent, but I took that to mean he agreed with me. Roc kicked a trash can.

"So we fucking run then!"

"No, Roc." I felt the edge in my voice. "I have a feeling about her. "

"For fuck's sakes, enough with the intuition bullshit! I say we whack her, dispose of the body and then get the fuck out of Boston."

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Since when has my intuition been wrong? How many times have I saved your ass?" I had to fight the urge to yell. "Ericka is a _good woman_. Whatever her motive is, it's not harmful. But if you want to jump ship and run like a fucking pussy and keep working your stupid ass package boy job for Papa Joe until you get set up again and killed, go for it. We're not keeping you here." I guess I hit a nerve, because Roc said nothing more as we walked to Ericka's.

We sat on the steps as we waited for her to show. Murph was chain smoking, flicking his silver Zippo lighter open and closed in attempts to keep busy. I twirled a cancer stick in my fingers, not really sure why I wasn't lighting up.

Murph and I glanced at each other, sharing the same thought.

_I hate waiting. _

**Ericka's POV**

Everything had been going fine. Just fucking fine.

The guy I met in the bar after that brutal twelve hour shift in the ER- Connor MacManus- was adorable, and after our date, I wanted to see him stick around for a while. He had lifted my mood and actually made me laugh- Something completely different from the typical men who asked me out. He wasn't boring, he had faith- he asked me out in Catholic church- and he had passed my test- he didn't try sleeping with me on the first date. And he could hold his alcohol. Granted, I knew little about him- I'm not even sure what we talked about at the bar, just that I was super engaged in conversation.

One thing that concerned me though- he seemed very over protective. He followed me home _after_ I told him not to- Though admittedly, seeing the look on his face after watching me lay out those drug dealing kids was amusing. And he had a gun. There was nothing I loved more than a man who could handle a gun.

_Two days and I'm hooked. Fucking figures. _It seemed ridiculous to me that this perfect stranger hadn't left my thoughts since I had met him. I had hoped and prayed that there wasn't a catch. There was _always _a catch when I met a seemingly decent man- which was few and far between.

But of course, there was.

I was just getting off of work when Connor happened to waltz into the ER with his brother, who was carrying a bloodied up teenager, with another teen and a guy who looked as if he hadn't showered in a week. I recognized the brother and the guy- Muprh and Rocco were their names. I remembered them from the night I met Connor.

Murph had the look of a guilt stricken man- yelling at the tops of his lungs for a doctor. The teen- the uninjured one- stood there shaking, swearing a little in Spanish. Roc sat down in the first chair he saw and watch the events unfolding as he wasn't affected in the least. Connor's face was blank, but his eyes were unfocused, like he was replaying the events in his head- until he caught sight of me. His eyes widened and I felt him staring as I ran after the girl on the gurney and doctor.

After the doctor and a few other nurses got her stabilized, they sent her up for surgery. I didn't work on her- just stuck around long enough to make sure she would make it. I went back out into the waiting room. Murph was pacing the floors- he reminded me of a tweaker with all of his fidgeting. Connor leaned forward in his seat, fingers laced together- deep in thought. I stood in front of him as he let the words, "What a clusterfuck."

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

I dropped to my knees and talked to the brother first, then the other three. I was surprised at how willingly they complied to going to my place and talking- Connor even addressed me as "ma'am." I hadn't been addressed with such respect since my military time- a period of time in my life I tried to forget about.

I watched them leave, and decided to follow from a distance. I wanted to be sure that I was going to get the whole story out of these three- I really didn't want to involve the police, but would if I had to.

I followed the three men from a distance. Due to the fact Rocco had no perception of volume control, I could hear most of the conversation.

"For fuck's sakes, enough with the intuition bullshit! I say we whack her, dispose of the body and then get the fuck out of Boston."

I felt the faintest trace of panic before Connor stopped walking and got up in Roc's face. "Since when has my intuition been wrong? How many times have I saved your ass? Ericka is a _good woman_. Whatever her motive is, it's not harmful. But if you want to jump ship and run like a fucking pussy and keep working your stupid ass package boy job for Papa Joe until you get set up again and killed, go for it. We're not keeping you here."

I was touched by Connor's assumption that I was a good person- even if he had told me the other night, it was nice to know he meant it. I was also surprised my joke about Rocco working for the Mafia happened to be true.

_Ego boost +10 points. _

I followed them carefully until they made it back to my place. I left them sitting on the steps, heading over to the local gas station. If I was going to get them to talk at all, I had to get them to trust me.

With a carton of smokes and twelve pack of beer in my hand, I approached them half an hour later. I all but threw the beer at Rocco, who looked at me with an incredulous look on face.

"What the hell-"

"You can carry that in for me," I said dryly. I entered the building, and as we walked up the staircase to the top floor, I swear I heard Connor say, "Told you so."

As soon as were in my apartment, I left them in the kitchen and changed into jeans and tshirt. I wanted a shower, but that would have to wait. There were more pressing matters at hand- like getting answers out of the two Irishman.

I returned to the kitchen to find them standing there, coats still on. I quirked an eyebrow. "You can sit down. No need to be so fucking stiff." They looked to each other – I didn't miss the grin that passed between Connor and Murph.

I sat down at the table, opening a beer. They did the same, saying "thank you" as they cracked open their beers. A few moments of silence passed. I cleared my throat.

"So." I leaned forward in my chair, elbow resting on the table. "Start talking. I want to know who you are, what you do, and how in the fuck you became involved with that girl and her brother."

Connor and Murph had a silent conversation, one Rocco seemed to miss out on. Finally, Murph nodded to Connor.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ericka," he started. I heard the hesitation in his voice- it would have gone completely missed if I hadn't been looking for it.

"How do you feel about the Saints?"

I felt my stomach drop.

_There's the fucking catch you were looking for._

_**Review? Bitte, bitte, bitte? :)**_


	6. Drink Drank Drunk

**All rights to whoever. I don't think I could get more apathetic with my disclaimers. **

The speed at which Ericka's facial expressions changed was remarkable. At first was dawning comprehension, followed by shock, which was followed by irritation, which transitioned into resignation. But fear was never there- the one emotion I was sure would appear on her face.

_This girl amazes me._

She took a deep breath, nailing us with the same piercing gaze she had given at the hospital. "So, cut to the chase. Are you guys the Saints?" We nodded. She bit her lip for the briefest second before continuing her interrogation.

"First off, how did that girl in the ER and her brother become involved with y'all?" I smiled at the use of the word 'y'all' as I vaguely wondered where she had picked that up- it wasn't exactly a colloquial term here in Boston.

"The brother sort of sought out our help- thanks to Roc, here. We didn't know fully what was going on, just that we had an opportunity to scope out a bad guy. We didn't find out until we got there that Jose and his sister was supposed to be executed because they didn't want to push or hook for the guy anymore." Ericka's face bordered on disgust and shame. I wondered if she knew she was the one who had beat Jose up- though judging by the guilty look she gave me, I was pretty sure she was. "It was just right time, right place. I'd hate to think of what would have happened if we hadn't been there."

"What happened to her, do you know?" Murph cut in. "Maria looked like she had been beaten within an inch of her life."

"Fairly accurate description." Ericka shook her head and sighed. "She'd taken quite a beating before she was shot-"

"I didn't think we'd hit her when we started shooting!" Murph's voice shook slightly.

"Hon, I'm not honestly sure of _when_ she was shot- and in any case, I'm fairly certain that you didn't shoot her on purpose, if you did indeed shoot her at all. However, it doesn't much matter now because she's hospital with her brother, safe and bullet free. So calm the fuck down, boy."

Muprh looked as if he wanted to punch a wall- and judging by his jerky movements as he lit a smoke, it was possible he might. He took in a deep breath of nicotine, trying to calm his frayed nerves. I leaned over, putting a hand on his shoulder. I felt his whole body shaking- glancing down I saw he was bouncing his leg up and down rapidly.

"Calma mo dheartháir. Beidh gach go breá." _Calm my brother. All will be fine._

Hearing reassurances in Gaelic always seemed to soothe him. As he stilled his fidgeting I felt a small surge of pride- Murph had always been a nervous ball of energy- I was the only one who knew how to keep him in check. _Another one of those twin things. _

Murph turned back to Ericka, who had been gazing at the nutrition facts label on the can of beer she was drinking, apparently picking up on Murph's 'gonna break some shit' vibes. "Guess you're right." He sighed, rubbing his eyes.

Ericka looked up from her beer. "Happens every now and then." She offered him a kind smile as she shrugged. Her face turned serious again. "Well, how long have you guys been doing this?"

"A few months at the most." Murph frowned. "Since Saint Patty's day, I believe….Yeah. Something like that."

"Why did you start in the first place?"

"Couple of Russian mafia fucks took a bar fight a bit too seriously and showed up at our apartment." I was surprised at how nonchalant I was. _Could be talking about the weather for fuck's sakes. _"It was either them or us, and well, we're a bit selfish."

Murph shook his head at me. "Best use of a toilet I've ever seen. Still can't believe you survived that fall."

"Fall?" Ericka cocked her head slightly.

"This stupid fuck jumped five stories, using one of the Russian Mafioso's as a landing pad."

"You just fuckin' remember this stupid fuck saved your ass." Murph took a swipe at me but before we had a chance to fall into one of fist fights, Ericka gave a loud cough. We sat back promptly in our chairs waiting for the interrogation to continue.

"Alright, alright- why do you keep going after mafia members and the like?"

"God." The simple answer didn't seem to surprise her.

"Figured as much. You both have saints tattooed on your necks- Speaks volumes about your beliefs." She took a swig of her beer. "Well. What are your conditions?"

"Conditions?"

"You know, for taking someone out." She waved her hands as she talked. "I guess that question sounds a bit tactless, but what's the deal? Does God send a monthly postcard? 'Greetings from Heaven, take out these guys.'" I bit back a laugh, not wanting to incur the wrath of my twin.

Murph leaned forward in his chair, voice low. "We seek to take out evil. The corrupt- the ones who have no hope of changing, who use other people to their advantage, who have lost sense of right and wrong- they are the ones we go after. We want to rid the world of the filth that roams free."

He let a moment of silence pass. "Take it or leave it, however this is our purpose in life- our calling. If you can't wrap your head around it, then I suggest you forget about us three and go about your life, doing as much good as you can. I trust you wouldn't tell anyone about us."

Ericka quirked an eyebrow. "You underestimate my ability to comprehend the strange and unusual." She spoke calmly, but her words were tinged with undisguised irritation-Every word was punctuated with the emotion. "I can wrap my head around having faith. I can wrap my head around answering to your calling. I can't wrap my head around the fact that you're telling me all of this as if I'm like your best fucking friend or some shit. I thought I'd have to fight you to the death for information, and you just come right out and say it. Shocking, really."

"Well, Connor here trusts you. I trust his judgment- it's never wrong."

"Ah. You mean that 'intuition bullshit' as he so eloquently put it." She said pointing at Roc.

"Hang on- You followed us?" I asked, slightly alarmed by the fact we hadn't noticed her.

_We must be slipping- or just getting too damn reassured. _

"Yup. How's it feel?" She smirked as she took another drink of beer. "Oh, and by the way Rocco, learn some fucking volume control. I swear to God all of Boston heard you shouting plans to whack and dispose of my corpse." Murph half coughed, half laughed, covering up by lighting another cigarette.

Roc looked ashamed. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"Yeah, yeah, I fucking get it. Just looking out for yourselves." Her face softened. "Alright. I'll tell you what. You guys are bound to get hurt at some point- Be it during a job, barfight- whatever. You can't exactly walk into the ER with a gunshot wound and not have questions asked. From now on, consider me your personal medic."

"What makes you so fucking qualified? You're just a nurse." Roc spit out the words with his thick Boston accent, not realizing who exactly he was dealing with.

Ericka merely chuckled. "Hold on a minute, _Roc._" She got up from the table and disappeared into the living room returning to us a few moments later with a slim leather book in her hand. She threw it down in front of Roc, and gestured with her hand. "There are my fucking qualifications. Go on. Open it."

Roc opened up the first page, scanned it, and then handed it off to Murph and me. His face was bright red and he refused to look anywhere but his beer bottle.

I felt the surprised look on my face, but I couldn't wipe it away. The first page in book was a copy of Ericka's military service record- Apparently she had been a staff sergeant in the us army, job title being combat medic. On the next few pages were all of her awards, and achievements. Apparently she was sent overseas twice during the gulf war- each tour lasting a year, and then did several small stints at other bases in the Middle East.

_In other words, she's seen her fair share of shit. _

"Wow." Was the only thing Murph could manage.

"What? So shocking that tiny little me has service time?" She seemed a tad amused.

"No…it's just that it looks like you've seen a lot."

Her face darkened as she crossed her arms. "I have, Murph. I've seen and worked on many good men and women and I've seen them die." She cringed, though I was pretty sure she wasn't even aware of the action. "Makes you grow up- nothing is more sobering than knowing you could have saved someone if you had known what to do." She pursed her lips, lost in her thoughts for a brief moment. I had the distinct feeling, once again, that I was indefinitely missing something.

"Either way, it's not impressive or important what I did- what's important is that I know my shit and I could very well wind up saving your life at some point- which considering your line of work, I'd say that's fairly probable. So. Do you want my help, or not?"

I didn't bother to look at Muprh. "Aye." I replied, looking her dead in the face.

She smiled a little. "Good." Her smile widened into a mischievous grin. "Well, now with that miserable little chat out of the way, how do you boys feel about a few rounds of Irish poker?"

**Ericka POV**

_Well, I am now in league with the goddamned Saints (no pun intended) of South Boston. Fan-fucking-tastic. _

_I need another beer._

After everything started to click- as in, when the gerbil got in the wheel, when the light bulb flickered on over my head- well, what else could I do? I knew I should have been scared shitless, should have kicked them out of my apartment and reported them. But there was something about Connor and Murphy that seemed good- so unbelievably good.

Murph reminded me a lot of my brother- he was so fidgety, like he couldn't sit still for more than a minute at a time. Something told me he couldn't resist a good joke. I looked at him, passed out on the living room floor- I was going to murder him if he threw up all over the rug like Eric did when I moved out on my own.

I snorted at the memory. _At least Murphy can hold his alcohol. Eric was such a lightweight._

_Speaking of lightweights_…..I peered into the bathroom and found Rocco with his head on the toilet. I wasn't so sure I liked him, but I could learn to deal with him. _Wonder if he makes decent Italian food, _I wondered as I picked him up and patiently guided him to the couch, putting a trash can near his face.

I looked around for the last member of the Saints. I couldn't find him anywhere, so resigning myself to the cold as Murph was using my coat as a pillow, I stepped outside and found Connor resting against the metal railing, also without a coat. He wasn't smoking, and I didn't see a beer or other alcohol in his hand- he was just standing there. He looked almost stoic in the moonlight. I grinned to myself- he hadn't noticed me- too perfect.

Slowly I tiptoed behind him, and spoke softly into his ear. "You do realize it's ten degrees out here, right?" I laughed as I got my desired reaction out him. He jumped straight up and looked down at me- hand already at his empty holster.

"Ericka, Jesus Christ, what in the fuckin' hell-" He cursed in a few other languages. _French, Spanish, German, and- My God, was that Russian? How many fuckin' languages does he know?_

_English, Latin- he spoke it at church- German, Russian, Spanish-more than likely- who doesn't know at least a tiny bit of Spanish nowadays?- French, and whatever he spoke to his brother in the kitchen- Gaelic maybe? So…seven or eight in total. Puts that one guy in my old unit who knew both Arabic and French to shame. _

"Um, I'm sorry Conner. I didn't mean to startle you. Well, yeah I did. I didn't mean to scare you as badly as I did though." His eyes softened.

"It's alright, love. I was just…"

"Miles away?"

He smiled. "Something like that."

I looked out at night sky- it was unusually clear out. I felt arms wrap themselves around my shoulders. I looked up and found Connor staring out at sky with me. I sighed and leaned back into him. He rested his chin on the top of my head.

We stood there in silence for a long while. We watched as the sky faded from a dark blue into a faint pink and orange hue. It was then I noticed Connor shivering.

"You're s-s-sshivering." My lips were cold and numb. Connor looked at me, and shook his head. "C'mon. Let's get you inside."

He led me back into my apartment, rubbing my arms in attempts to warm me back up. I walked to my bedroom as he followed next to me, bodies violently shaking from being in the cold for so long. I pulled off my jeans and climbed under the covers of my bed, not even considering the fact Connor was in the same room as me. My head felt fuzzy.

_Maybe the alcohol caught up to me… How many beers did I have? Did I drink that whole bottle of whisky to myself? _

_I must have a real drinking problem… _

Connor interrupted me counting up how many drinks I had consumed. Kneeling next to me he gently pulled my hair out of the rubber band that had held it a tight bun all day and smoothed it out. He kissed my forehead. "Codail go maith, mo ghrá." He whispered as he rose from my bedside. I wanted to yell at him, demand that he translate what he just said- for all I knew he could be cursing me. However I felt sleep pulling me under, so I did the only thing I could do in my present mindset.

"Bleibst du mit mich?" Not entirely sure where the German came from or if was I speaking it correctly, I reached out and gently pulled on his wrist figuring he would get the message.

I heard him chuckle as he pulled away. The sounds of denim hitting the floor reached my ears. I felt Connor climb into bed with me, pulling me into his chest. I feel into sleep, aware of only the strong arms that held me, the smell of cigarettes and the stubble that brushed my neck.

**Reviews? Please, please, please? They sort of make my day. : ) **


	7. Hangover

_**Blah, blah, usual disclaimer here:_. **_

**Murph's POV**

_You'd think I'd be immune to hangovers by now. _

Light leaking through the open blinds had woken me from my alcohol induced sleep. My head pounded. I sat up and looked around Ericka's once immaculate living room. Roc had overtaken the couch, trash can placed by his head. Beer cans were lying all over, along with a box of half eaten pizza and a deck of cards- Irish poker had kicked my pathetic Irish ass.

My stomach gave an all mighty lurch. _Bathroom. Now. _I stumbled towards the bathroom as quickly as I could in my current state. The contents of my stomach spilled into the basin of the toilet.

I hated throwing up. _Well, who doesn't hate throwing up? I mean, really- is there anyone who finds it enjoyable? _I rested my head on my arms in between vomiting fits, breathing hard, eyes streaming, and sweating buckets. _What in the fuck did I drink last night? Fuckin' hell. Connor will never let me live this one down._

_Shit, where is he? _I coughed as the nausea overtook me again and I all but stuck my face directly into the shitter. It took a while, but as soon as the dry heaves ceased, I stood up and hobbled to the sink. Cupping the tap water in my hands, I took a drink and swished it around in my mouth._ Nothing like the taste of stomach acid in the morning. _I turned the tap off and slowly walked out of the bathroom, sure that the heaving would start all over if I left its confines of puke green tile and porcelain. Thankfully, there were no more crippling waves of queasiness and I gave a silent thank you to the saint that controlled such things as hangovers and puking.

I passed an open door. Wondering if it was where Connor had passed out, I peered into the dim room. Sure as shit, Connor was there in bed- body wrapped around Ericka- literally. I wasn't sure, but judging by the way their bodies were positioned, he had a legged draped over her. Connor looked younger somehow; the worry lines that I thought were going to become permanent features of his face had smoothed out- he even had a ghost of a smile on his face. Ericka looked peaceful- no sharp looks or wry smirks on her face- I noted that she was wearing the same long sleeve shirt from last night, which seemed to dispel the notion that they had had slept together. I sighed, grateful for that at least, and then walked to the kitchen, intent on making coffee. Discovering that there was still some leftover in the coffeepot, I poured myself a cup and nuked it until it was hot. It would do- all coffee tasted like shit anyway, so I doubted the age of the crap would matter much. I stared into the ceramic mug filled with dark brown liquid, as if the bitter substance could give me solace.

I knew that sooner or later, Connor would become involved with someone- I sure as hell wasn't the twin who was going to get caught up in the angst ridden world of love. I was smarter than that. Connor, with his _ardor_ for film, was a helpless romantic. Not that he would ever own up to it, but I knew he enjoyed the occasional chick flick. He about fuckin' bawled when we watched Titanic on tv one time- though he insisted it was his allergies acting up. I snorted. _Guy is a shitty liar. As see through as a two way mirror._

I dug the heels of my palms into my eyes. _We don't fuckin' need this shit right now. It's enough to have to cover our asses, and Roc's- we don't need to watch over yet another person. _I sat hunched over in my chair for a while, wishing desperately the throbbing behind my eyes would cease.

"Good morning sunshine!" I looked up and found Connor walking around the kitchen, wearing his infuriating 'I know you have a hangover' grin. He poured himself a cup of caffeinated shit, making as much noise as possible.

"Bi ciuin! Ta tinneas cinn orm!" A groan escaped me as my head gave a particularly painful throb. Conner looked at me concerned.

"Ya look like shit, Murph."

"Aye, I bet. I feel it." I glanced down at my clothes- and then realized with a start that they were stained with dried blood- Maria's blood. The coppery smell hit me in the face. The previous night came rushing back, and the nausea than had tapered off came flooding back in full force. "Jesus Christ." I pushed Connor out of the way and ran to the toilet, making it just in time.

Connor came into the bathroom and knelt down next to me, patting me on the back, cringing sympathetically as I gagged. When my body stopped quaking, I pushed my brother away again- Not that I didn't appreciate the attempt at comforting me, it was more about making room, creating space than anything else. I needed some air desperately. Nodding silently to Connor, I got up, knees weak and threatening to give out. He slipped an arm around my shoulder, but I shrugged it off, bound and determined to make it to the patio on my own. He took a cue and walked behind me, giving me distance but I knew he was watching me like a hawk.

I opened the sliding glass door and stepped outside, cold air greeting me. The morning was stunningly beautiful, even if there was no snow on the ground. I had always loved winter, and I loved summer. Extremes. Polar opposites. My moods tended to act in the same manner- one side of spectrum or the other- good mood, bad mood. It was all black and white. _Poetic. _I scoffed at myself.

Connor pulled out two cigarettes, lighting both of them and handing one to me. I muttered a thank you and sat down in one of the chairs, taking a puff. Smoke swirled around in my mouth. The nicotine worked its magic, calming me down enough to stop the shaking I hadn't been aware of.

I stared out at the sky, the only sounds coming from the wind, the burning cigarette hanging out of my mouth, and Connor's breathing in the chair next to mine. We sat quiet like that for some time before I caved- like Connor knew I would. _One of those stupid twins things. _

"I feel bloody fuckin' awful about Maria. She shouldn't have been caught in the middle of that shit. How old is she anyway? Fifteen? And she's already seen so much in her life?" I gritted my teeth and bounced my leg up and down. "She doesn't deserve that, she's just a kid. So is her brother."

"Aye." Connor gave me a thoughtful look. "Imagine if we hadn't been there? She'd be another body in the morgue, along with Jose. You saved her life- regardless of if your gun fired the bullet that landed in her. You didn't pull the trigger with intent to hurt her."

I chewed on my already gnawed off thumbnail. I felt a surge of anger, and the words- however blunt they may have been- left my mouth before I had even formed the thought. "I want to take out that fucker who's been using those kids. And all of his fuckin' lackeys." Connor looked over at me, ever the calm and collected one.

"Thought that went without saying."

I nodded, staring at a passing cloud. "Evil men. Dead men."

'_Nuff said. _

**AN: "Bi ciuin! Ta tinneas cinn orm!" translates from Gaelic as "Be quiet! I have a headache!" Trying to tie in other languages has been a real challenge- especially when I know nothing of the languages being spoken. And did you know there are different forms of Gaelic? The Irish form and the Scottish form are entirely different from each other! (Kind of like Italian and French- same roots, a few of the same phonetics, but different.)**

**Speaking of challenges, I'm trying to write in other character's POV. It's hard to write their perspectives differently- I want each one to be different, though I felt it was easier to write from Murphy's perspective- possibly because he isn't as conflicted as Connor when it comes to their "Sainthood." **

**One more thing: Please, please take the time to review- even if it's something as simple as "Hey, this was good." Or "Hey, this sucked, fix it." Either way, all I'm looking for is feedback- and I'm sure you readers have plenty to say- I'm fairly certain that if you're reading BDS fanfiction, you probably drop the F-bomb at least thirty times in a day- Come now, don't be shy! :) **


	8. Nightmare

**Ericka POV**

_Blood. So much blood everywhere. _

_My hands were in latex gloves- attempting to assist the doctors and nurses as they tried to save people. My gloved hands were bloody. _

_My gloved hands didn't know what to do, so I stood there and stared. _

_Men were on gurneys and operating tables, people in desert cameo surrounding them. Everything was moving franticly. Lights, shouting and yelling-"Need three units of AB neg here!"- "Scalpel! Suction! Gauze! Clamp- Now, now, now!" _

_And beeping- so much goddamned beeping from every machine- a beep for every heartbeat. I wanted to make it stop. I wanted to scream and rip my hair out._

_But the beeping was good. It meant he was still alive. The shouts of "We're losing him!" meant nothing so long as the machines still made that awful noise. _

_Beep. Beep. Beep. The tones were erratic, not keeping the steady rhythm they should have been. _

_Beep. Beep. Such an agonizing pause. I thought my heart would break waiting for that next beat._

_Beep. Beep. Beep- another agonizing pause, followed by a steady tone. Someone had flat lined. _

_Not him, not him, no, no, no- anyone else but him. Not Erick. Not my fucking brother. No!_

I shot straight up out of my bed. Panic flooded me- I looked at my hands, expecting to see bloody latex gloves- instead I saw my pale hands- ungloved and clean.

That fucking dream again. I took several deep breaths, begging the shaking to stop. Eventually I calmed down enough to get out bed and function. I pushed the dream to the back of my mind.

_Guess it's time for another talk with God._

Going to a church- any quote 'house of God' would do- and praying, became my ritual for whenever I had that particular nightmare. It had become so common that that I was in church at least three times a week- it scared me a how frequent the nightmares had become, but it scared me even more that I had become so used to them.

I ventured out of my bedroom, peering around the corner after catching sight of a harry man snoring on my couch.

_Oh. It's just Rocco. _I shook my head, catching sight of Connor standing in the kitchen with a very hung-over looking Murphy. I had actually forgotten that the Saints of South Boston had crashed in my apartment- On my living room floor and in my _bed._ I inwardly groaned. The guys I had gone on dates with had never- _never -_ seen the inside of my home, let alone been allowed in my bed. _I must have been exceptionally drunk. _

_Wait- did we have sex?_ I racked my brain for the few fuzzy details I could think of- Memory loss- an unfortunate side effect of drinking for me. _He spoke some language to m_e. Whatever tongue it had been, it had been pretty- I couldn't recall the exact words, but his voice came back to me- deep and lilting.

_Oh God. _I bit my lip. Between trying to remember if I had had a hot romp in bed with Connor and remembering how he spoke to me- and how he had kissed me outside my apartment the other night, before things went to shit- I was, well, you get the picture.

_When was the last I got laid? _Evidently, it had been a while, because I couldn't for the life of me remember. I turned on my heel and walked into the bathroom to shower, bound and determined to keep my mind out of the gutter.

_You will NOT have sex with the hot Irishman. You will NOT have carnal relations with a vigilante, God driven killer. Bad, Ericka. Bad idea. _

The mental chiding stopped halfway through my shower when the door opened and somebody walked in, seemingly oblivious to the fact that someone was in the shower. I peered around the curtain and watched as Murph threw up into the toilet. His jeans were stained with dried blood- a daunting reminder of Maria and her brother. I ducked back into the shower to allow him some privacy.

I heard another set of footsteps come into the bathroom. Someone was speaking in a language I didn't know- then I realized with a pang it was Connor- apparently trying to calm his brother. I stood still, out of the spray of the showerhead and listened. It was the same language he had spoken to me and- if I was assuming correctly – the one he had spoken to Murph last night. I smiled to myself. It was the same thing Erick would do to calm me down- though he spoke in German instead of the flowing language that both brothers seemed to know.

After a few minutes passed without Murphy retching, I heard them both get up and leave the bathroom. Quickly, I finished my shower, running to my room in a towel, praying that none of the guys could see me. I dried off and searched my room for clothes. Fashion had taken a back burner- something I was starting to deeply regret as I realized I had nothing but long sleeve shirts and scrubs. I rummaged through my closet and managed to come up with jeans and a black t-shirt. I dressed at lightning speed, proclaiming myself as 'good enough.'

I walked into the kitchen and found the twins sitting at the table. They were silent; Murphy stared into his cup of coffee and Connor was reading through the newspaper, or at least he looked it. His eyes were rather unfocused for someone who was engrossed in the front page. I cleared my throat, making both brothers jump.

"Anyone hungry?"

Twenty minutes later, I remembered why I lived off of pop tarts and take out- I couldn't cook for shit.

Somehow I had managed to burn _both _the scrambled eggs and toast, setting off my smoke alarm. Murph was in stitches as I frantically tried to shut off the appliance of doom.

"I thought women were supposed to be able to cook!" He cackled.

I threw a spatula at him. "Fuck off!"

Murph threw his head back and laughed even louder at me. Connor watched us from the sink, grinning ear to ear. I finally stood on a chair and ripped the detector from the ceiling and yanked out the batteries, throwing it on the table in triumph. It bounced off the table and landed on the floor, breaking into a few pieces. I winced. _So much for getting my security deposit back._

"So…. What are we gonna eat now?" asked Murphy with a straight face. I glared at him. "I mean, come now. We can't cook. That's woman's work ya know."

I opened a cabinet and threw a box of pop tarts at him, hitting him square in the forehead. "Bon appétit, monsieur." Murph grumbled and walked sulkily to the patio to smoke, taking the pop tarts with him.

Connor chuckled, picking up the pan I had attempted to cook with. "Sorry about him. He's a bit of a prick when he's hung over." He grinned down at me. "Nice shot by the way."

I grinned back. "Thanks." I grabbed the skillet of out his hand and started scrubbing it in the sink. A few moments of silence passed. I became very aware of Connor's presence next to me. Heat rushed to my cheeks and I concentrated my scrubbing on a crusty section of the pan.

Connor put a hand on my arm. "I think it's clean, _aingeal._" I looked up at him and saw him staring at my forearm. "Nice ink." He said.

I glanced down at my arm and saw the tattoo I went to great lengths to cover up- the word 'conviction' in a cursive font. I then noticed that he had tattoo on his hand- 'veritas'- and an elaborate Celtic cross on his arm. My eyes flickered up to his neck, where I saw a caricature of a saint.

I felt an 'oh duh' moment as I registered his tats. Why or how I hadn't noticed any of them was beyond me. I cleared my throat and pulled my arm out of his grasp. "Yeah. You too."

I put away the skillet and moved onto cleaning up the beer cans lying all over the kitchen table. The fact that I had a tattoo all but escaped my mind- most of the time it was covered up. I felt Connor's eyes on me.

"What's the story behind it?"

I paused in my cleaning. "Behind what?"

"Your tattoo."

I sighed, not looking at him. "It was the last thing my brother said to me before he died."

He frowned. "Thought you said you didn't have any siblings."

"None that are living." I threw away the beer cans and moved onto the fragments of the smoke detector. "One brother was killed in a drug deal, the other one died in a bombing in the sandbox."

I didn't miss his accusing look. "Why didn't you just say that when it came up the other night in conversation?"

My temper hit its boiling point. I stood straight up and glared right back at him. "Because it's kind of a mood killer on a first date, don't you think?" I snapped. "What did you want me to say? 'You have a twin brother? That's cool, my brothers are worm food.'" I clenched my jaw, trying hard to calm down. "Any further questions, your honor?"

Connor's stony gaze softened. He put his hands on my shoulders.___ "__Tá brón orm, __aingeal. _Just trying to look out for me and Murph. Our trust isn't something we just hand out, you know." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Come to think of it, I don't know much at all about you."

I sighed, raising my hands in defeat as I recognized that he had a very valid point. "Look, I'll tell you anything you want to know. Anything."

He pulled me into a hug and I felt the last of my anger and tension melt away. He kissed the top of my head before letting me go.

"Tell me when you're ready, love. I'm not in a hurry."

I looked up at him. "No, I'll tell you now. No sense in delaying the inevitable." I resumed my cleaning as I talked, detaching myself from the situation. "My brother, Phillip, decided to get involved with drugs back in high school. He moved to Dallas- we lived in Texas at the time- and he got in deep with the wrong people. Got himself all shot to hell. Happened when I was still in middle school. Erick, my other brother- my twin-" I amended. "Died in a car bombing when he was deployed to Iraq."

Connor raised his eyebrows. "Erick and Ericka? Parents were real original, weren't they?"

I managed a smile. "Yeah. Didn't know they were going to be raising twins until after we were born. They weren't big fans of modern medicine." I shrugged. "Guess at the time they were just too damn lazy to come up with separate names for us."

Connor snorted before moving onto his next question. "You were both military?"

"Yeah." I nodded my head absently. "Joined at the same time, trained and deployed together. Same unit, different jobs. He was a ground pounder. Infantry." I clarified, remembering Connor wasn't likely to understand military slang. "Hell of a lot smarter than that- Could've worked in intelligence- he taught himself German, had a 4.0 in school- but that was the job he had wanted to do since he was ten years old."

I absently ran a hand through my mane of hair. "I followed him into the service. Not like I had many other options. Our mom ran off when we were young, and dad dropped dead of a heart attack middle of our senior year. Eric was all I had. Why wouldn't I follow him?"

By this point, the kitchen was spotless. I paced back and forth in a straight line, trying to keep myself from getting worked up and teary eyed. I was telling him facts about myself. Simple as that. _Not something to get all emotional about. Happened years ago. _Against all of my self-restraint, the words started to pour out of my mouth. _Rambling. I'm rambling._ Somehow, I couldn't care.

"I asked him right before we signed up if he was sure it was something he wanted to do. And he said that he had never felt so convicted about anything in his life. I told him right before he died that I was getting out when I got back to the states, that I couldn't take the carnage anymore. I begged him to reconsider, but he was so goddamned adamant about staying in. I asked him, 'why in the fucking world would you want to do this shit anymore?' and he said to me, he said, 'Because, Ericka, it's what I fucking believe in. I stand for something. You might have heard of it- It's called conviction.'"

I felt the tears burning in my eyes. "Next time I saw him, he was on a fucking operating table and I was supposed to fucking put him back together again. I didn't know what the fuck to do. It wasn't like he was just some other G.I that I was supposed to work on. He was the man I had grown up with and had known my whole life- and I couldn't do anything. I just stood there and watched him die."

Connor rose from his chair and pulled me into him. He held me tightly as I cried silently into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry." Over and over again, he spoke the words in various languages, trying to comfort me. The same thought repeated itself in my mind.

_I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. _

**AN- I'm sorry this chapter had to revolve so much around Ericka and her past- I felt like she needed to have a storyline that would explain why she had gravitated so quickly to the MacManus twins. I had a hard time writing this chapter, and I'm sure you guys as readers had a hard time reading it as well. (Thank you for slugging through it! You're the best!) Rest assured- next chapter will be full of – as Murph would put it- "gratuitous violence.**


	9. Diner

Obligatory disclaimer: I own nothing of BDS. Der.

An- New ***rewritten* **chapter! Hope you enjoy, and please, please, please review! :)

**Connor POV**

"It's been one hell of a week." Murphy tore into the cheeseburger in front of him. "And it's only Wednesday." I nodded my head in silent agreement, half listening to Murphy rant.

We sat in the corner of an old diner we used to frequent when we worked at the meat packing plant. Murph had liked to come here because the waitresses doted on us- him especially. Our current waitress seemed to be no exception and kept refilling our drinks and passing by our table for no apparent reason.

I picked at the food on my plate, not very hungry. My hangover set in long after we had left Ericka's and taken a hung-over Roc home- though thankfully I hadn't puked, and with any luck I wouldn't. I had every intent of going back to Ericka's when she finished her shift in the ER- her place was still in shambles, and while cleaning wasn't my forte, I would gladly do it so long as it gave me a reason to be around her.

"Ya gonna eat that?" Murph snatched the untouched cheeseburger on my plate, not waiting for a reply. I stared at his as he wolfed it down.

"Was thinking about it, ya jackass." He grinned at me from across the table, pleased with himself. I was a little annoyed but relieved to see Murphy was back to his usual rambunctious and (somewhat) aggravating self.

As soon as I had the thought pass through my head, he abandoned his plate, nailing me with a gaze I knew all too well- the infamous 'Murphy-MacManus-has-something-to-say-so-shut-the-fuck-up-and-listen' look. I stirred some sugar into my coffee. "Well, what is it?" I asked wearily.

"We need to do something about Roc."

"What are you talking about?"

Murph gave me an exasperated look. "You haven't noticed? He's being fuckin' stupid lately. As if sticking around the Yakavetta's wasn't bad enough, he's going out of his way to find trouble. Remember what we agreed on when all this started? We don't go searching for missions, let them come to us? After the shit he pulled last night… fuck, man. I dunno."

We lapsed into silence; the dull buzz of the fluorescent lights the only sound around us. I had my own thoughts on the situation- I never thought Roc should have been in on any on this- but Murph had insisted that he would be a good fit and that he could handle it.

_Sure, he can handle all the blood and gore- a little too well. Does he have the moral fiber to not kill an innocent person? Could he keep himself in check and not go over the edge?_

I doubted it.

A loud crash from behind me broke the silence. Murph looked over my shoulder and groaned. "For fuck's sakes!" He leaped out his seat, sprinting to the counter. I got up and ran behind him, stopping short as he tackled a teenage boy, who had been apparently up in our waitress's face. A plastic bin lay abandoned on the floor with shards of broken dirty dishes and silverware. The girl stood behind the counter, looking terrified.

Murph pinned the guy on his stomach, knee in the small of his back. "So, you think you're a big man, eh? Breaking shit and throwing a temper tantrum for no reason." He twisted his arm. "Fuckin' moron."

"Hey, fuck you man!" the kid gasped. "That's my girlfriend! Shit, I'll fuckin' kill you if you don't get the hell off of me."

"Yeah. Sure you will, kid." I muttered. I turned to the girl. "Are you alright?" She stood there shaking, face ashen and unresponsive. I hopped over the counter, landing next to her. "Are you hurt at all?" There was still no response from her, just wide, horrified eyes as she trembled. "Come on, lass. Let's sit you down, calm yourself a bit." I put a hand on her shoulder and attempted to guide her to the back, away from the action. Something caught my eye. I followed her gaze and saw a group a five teens watching through the window, all male, all Mexican, and all apparently pissed off.

I gritted my teeth, holding in all the angry curses I want to send heavenward. _Fuckin' seriously? Can we go at least one night without violence? Asking too much, maybe? _I crossed myself, resigned to the fact that we had a fight on our hands.

"Murph! Seems he brought some friends with him." I yelled at him in Gaelic. I turned back to the waitress. "Lass, go into the back and call the police. Come on now." Life returned to her and she stared at me like I had a third eye.

"They're in a gang! No fuckin' way I'm getting the cops in on this shit!" I sighed and pushed her to the kitchen door. "Then stay the fuck outta the way." She nodded and ran, making her escape.

I walked back to Murphy and the teenage kid. "So, you brought some friends now did ya? We can do this the easy way or hard way. When my brother here lets you up, you should do the intelligent thing of getting' the fuck out of here, taking your pathetic friends with you and leavin' that girl alone."

"What's the hard way?" He scowled at me.

Murph answered for me. "You'll get the fuckin' ass beatin' of a lifetime, that's what." He snarled. He got off the kid and pulled him to his feet, backing up to stand next to me. There was a moment of tense silence as his cronies rushed into the dinner. The kid turned his head slightly to speak to one of the other gang members. They spoke in rapid Spanish- I had a hard understanding them.

The last words that punctuated the air before all hell broke loose: "Kill them."

**Murphy POV**

The six Mexican kids ran at us, splitting up to form two three-on-one fights with myself and Connor. "For the love of fucking God." I swore again as I dodged the first few punches they threw at me. My hand reached for the gun normally at my side- only to come up empty handed. _Fuck! _No knife either.

_Weaponless in a fight and hungover. Wonderful. Fan-fucking-tastic. This is the last time I ever listen to Connor and go anywhere without a gun. _

I lunged at the kid directly in front of me, knocking him to the floor. I jumped off him and kneed another one in the groin, pushing him into a table as he doubled over. The third kid- the one who I had pinned to the floor earlier- kicked me in the chest, knocking the wind of me. He landed a few more punches in before I managed to duck away from him. Stumbling around and breathless, I reached for the first object I could find- a plate lying on a table. I threw it like a Frisbee at the one who had kicked me with all the force I could manage. It broke in two as it collided with his forehead. He fell to the ground unconscious.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

I looked up to see one of the guys Connor was fighting scratching at his eyes. Apparently Connor had gotten creative, pouring hot coffee directly onto one of the people he was fighting. He crouched on the counter, armed raised with a coffee pot in each hand. Vaguely, I wondered if he had gotten the idea from some shitty made-for-TV movie as I fought to get my breath back.

The two other guys grabbed his arms and pulled him off the counter- their faces being greeted with heavy glass and piping hot liquid. Connor slipped on the broken glass and dishware as he attempted to keep his balance, landing face first on the floor. The kid with coffee in his eyes took his opportunity at revenge and kicked Connor in the face, stomping on his arm. There was a loud crunch and Connor swore at the top of his lungs.

I grabbed the kid by his coat and pressed down on the first pressure point I could think of- one in the neck. He crumpled to the floor instantly. Resisting the urge to kick the utter shit out of him, I reached instead for Connor, pulling him up onto his feet. He was bleeding fairly heavily, small chunks of glass stuck in his face. "You alright there?" He asked, holding his arm gingerly.

"Why you asking me? You're the one with fucking glass in your face." I yelled as the kid who I had kicked in the groin ran at me, wielding a fork. I stepped to the side at the last second, allowing his own momentum to carry him right into one of his friends who had been trying to attack Connor from behind. His friend gave a loud gasp- I assumed the fork had landed in the guy's stomach. He fell to the floor and his friend started crying. "I'm sorry, Marcus! Oh fuck! Fuck!"

Connor surveyed the mess rather impassively as blue and red lights flashed through the window.

"Bought fuckin' time they showed up. Could've used their help." I said angrily, the last of the adrenaline leaving my system. Connor shrugged, jumping onto the counter. "Think I broke my fuckin' wrist again. Shoulder hurts like hell too." He muttered.

"Police! Hands in the air!"

We raised our hands up as cops stormed into the diner. They all dropped their guns, looking bewildered as they saw the limp bodies on the floor. "The hell did you boys do?" Asked a younger looking cop. Before either of us could answer, another voice cut through the air.

"An act of civil service, so says the anonymous caller who phoned 911 from a payphone down the street." A tall lanky man walked towards us. I recognized him as one of the detectives from the ordeal with the Russians.

"Well, if it isn't the MacManus brothers. I'm Detective Greenly, I worked your case last March. Don't know if you remember me. I sure as fuck remember you two. Had me running errands for Agent Smecker the entire time he was in town." He looked us up and down, zeroing in on Connor's injuries. "Come on. Let's get you to the hospital, you look fuckin' terrible. You can give us your statements after you get stitched up."

"No, really, we're fine. We can tell you what happened and then we'll be on our way." Said Connor, wincing as he went to move his wrist.

Greenly chuckled darkly. "If you guys are fine, then I'm the fucking Pope. Come on. I'll drive you."

Connor sighed, signaling that he gave in. We followed the detective out of the diner and out to his car and let him drive us to the ER.

_Another long night. _ I thought grimly as we sat in the waiting room. I filled out the paperwork for Connor, seeing as how his left hand- the one he wrote with and fired a gun with- was probably broken. I had done this countless times before- I was pretty sure I knew his medical history better than my own.

_Fractured right wrist twice, broke the left one three time. Has had three concussions, couple fractured ribs, a broken nose. Allergic to penicillin. Countless stitches. Had the chicken pox when he was six, and I'm pretty sure he lost a tooth in a fight once. Or was that me who lost a tooth?_

Connor looked over my shoulder. "You idiot, you're the one with three concussions." I scowled at him, and scratched out the head injuries on the medical history form.

"MacManus, Connor." I looked up at the nurse who had called for Connor. "For the love of God, can't I go a day without you two passing through my ER?" Ericka shook her head and beckoned with the clipboard she was holding for us to follow her.

"Not like I was trying to end up here, you know." He said as she led us into an exam room. She shook her head at him, washing her hands in the sink and pulling on rubber gloves. "You guys could have at least waited to beat up a bunch of kids until I was off duty."

"Aye, but who was going to clean up the mess? Certainly not us." I grinned at her as she rolled her eyes at me.

"Jackass." She muttered, turning to Connor. "Shirt off." He muttered something along the lines of "Not fuckin' necessary," As he started to tug it off with difficulty.

Ericka walked over to him as he grew increasingly frustrated. "Don't be stupid, let me help. Sort of my job." I smirked as I saw a look of calm and a faint smile cross his face as he accepted her help.

_She's made for him. _I felt all apprehension towards the idea of them being together vanish. Anyone who could pull my brother out of a shit mood with a few simple words had to be something from the heavens.

Ericka started taking his vitals and looking over his injuries. I leaned against a wall, fascinated. I had a grasp on basic first aid- between all the fights we had been in over the years and our recent change in profession, we both had to be. I liked to think if I had been a normal person with the financial means to go to school, I would have gone to medical school and eventually became a doctor. However, we grew up dirt poor so we couldn't afford school.

And in any case we had never been normal.

"Murph, you have any broken bones I should know about?" She said, looking over Connor's chart.

"Nope. I'm fine." She raised a skeptical eyebrow while Connor glared at me. "Fuckin' idiot." Said Connor. "I saw him get kicked in the chest. Check him over."

I sighed and took off my coat and t-shirt, and stood there, fairly annoyed. Ericka walked over to me, and fell into what seemed like an old habit more than anything else. "Tell me if anything hurts." She rubbed a knuckle over the length of my collarbone and felt up my ribs with two gloved fingers. "Anything?" I shook my head no. "Good. Bit surprising, considering the side of the boot print on your chest. Take a couple Tylenol and you'll be fine."

_Tylenol. Connor's cure all for everything. _Further proof they were made for each other.

I glanced down at myself before putting my shirt back on. There was a purple bruise blooming where the kid had kicked me. I probably wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been pointed out.

"Alright, Connor, I can't diagnose you myself, but if you don't mind, I think I'll venture a guess." She looked at his wrist. "Judging by where the swelling and bruising is, I'd say you've got a fairly clean break. Guessing you'll be in a cast for a few weeks until the bones heal and fuse back together. We'll know for sure when your X-rays come back. Your shoulder is also dislocated, and as far as your face goes, we just need to clean the lacerations up. You're lucky, you don't need stitches and that there isn't any glass embedded in them- it'd be nightmare to clean up."

She turned to leave the room. "Now just hang tight here for a while. I can't do anything for you until a doctor sees you." She looked rather annoyed by that fact. "Could be a while."

The door to the room swung open and a man wearing a white coat walked in. Based on the way he carried himself, I already didn't like him. Based on the way he looked at Ericka as he walked in the room, Connor already hated him.

"Ericka, there you are. I've been trying to find you all day." She cringed. Connor and I grinned at each other. This could get interesting.

"Uh, well, Doctor Caldwell, I've been working all day. Kind of what I'm doing right now."

He looked around at Connor and I. Connor waved his good hand in a sardonic greeting. Caldwell nodded his head. "I see." He coughed and straightened his tie. "Well, Ericka, what are you doing when you get off? Maybe we could go grab a drink?"

Her eyes widened in horror. She opened her mouth to speak. "Ah, well, um-"

"She's coming home with me." Said Connor fiercely. Ericka glanced from him, to me, to Caldwell, than back to Connor, who looked surprised by the words that had come out of his own mouth.

A sly grin appeared on her face and I tried very, very hard to not notice the sudden sparks passing between her and my brother. "Actually, I'm taking him back to my place." She spoke the words carefully, weighting each one so we all knew exactly what we meant.

I grabbed my coat and clapped the now fuming doctor on the back on my way out the door.

"Think that's a no there, doctor."


	10. Movielike

Usual Disclaimer here:

**Murph POV**

Ericka's unofficial diagnosis had been right- dislocated shoulder and a broken wrist- Which meant that Connor was out for a few weeks. "No fighting, no gun slinging, no drinking." Ericka had ordered as she cleaned up the cuts on his face.

I wandered around the hospital as I waited for Connor's wristed to be casted. I had run out of cigarettes, and I was nic-fitting something fierce as I racked my brain for a plan- because we needed one ASAP. I wasn't concerned about the kids from the diner- after giving Greenley our statements, he said we were cleared. "You two were just good Samaritans that kicked some ass. No worries, we'll keep this outta the press." He had reassured us.

I stood in front of a glass window, looking in at patients lying in their beds. Most of them were hooked up to machines- my guess was that I had somehow found the ICU. I wondered if Maria was in there, comatose with tubes and wires stuck in her. I sighed and leaned into the frame of the window, resting my head on the glass as I fought the lump in my throat.

I knew Connor was right- despite that fact that we dove into the situation headfirst and blind, we had kept Jose and Maria alive. But I couldn't get the image of Maria out of my head. I could still see her bleeding onto the pavement; practically feel her limp and broken body in my arms. I wasn't sure why it disturbed me as much as it did- I was in the business of death after all, and I had delivered several sinners to their maker. But that was the principle of the whole thing- Maria was an innocent girl who had seen hell at a young age- no one deserved that.

Maria was no sinner, but Otets sure as hell was. I dug my nails deep into my palms. I wanted him dead- and I wanted to be the one who the bullet in the fucker's skull. Unfortunately, Connor and I had very little to go on. All we knew about the guy was that he was Russian, he exploited immigrant kids and sold drugs, and he hung out at a place he referred to as the 'longue.'

_There's no way we're gonna get this guy. _I let out a groan of frustration and rubbed my eyes.

"The fuck is wrong with you, man?" I looked up and saw Jose standing next to me, his eyes staring into the dimly lit room. I didn't have an answer for him- Maria wasn't _my_ sister, she wasn't anything to me- but for some reason, the whole thing was really fucking with my head. I cleared my throat in attempt to speak, but I still came up short on words.

"She's in a coma." Jose spoke, filling the silence and answering my unvoiced questions. "It's a medicine induced one, so her body will heal quicker. She should be able to wake up in about a couple days. What the doctors said anyway." He sounded absolutely drained. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders. "Saw you come in earlier when I was outside smoking. What are you doing here?"

I had to clear my throat again before I could speak. "Brother and I got into a fight with some people. He took a beating, but he'll be alright."

"Is that like your guy's thing? Getting into fights and killing people?" He asked bluntly. I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering where his sudden audacity came from.

"Yeah. Something like that." I muttered.

Quiet fell between us. "You guys got names?" he asked.

"He's Connor. I'm Murphy." Jose nodded to himself and looked back into the room.

"You want to see her, don't you?" he said suddenly. I was slightly taken aback-the kid had a lot of balls being so nosey. Jose smiled faintly. "Why else would you be here? Go ahead. She's the third bed down." I was slow to react but eventually pushed off the wall and walked into the room. It gave me the creeps- the place was silent, aside from the soft beeping from the machines. I cautiously walked over to Maria and sat in the plastic chair next to her bed.

She was hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV, but apparently she could breathe on her own. There were blue and yellow bruises dotting her face and arms. The knuckles of her hands were scraped up- she had put up a real fight. To my surprise, she didn't look in pain- on the contrary, she looked peaceful. I don't know how long I sat there and just watched her breathe. Jose came in at some point and pulled up a chair next to me, observing us. I leaned forward and intertwined my fingers with Maria's tiny ones, wondering if she would know I had been there. The tattoo on my trigger finger stood out- Aequitas.

_Justice. _

If I had any doubt about what Connor and I did, it was gone in that moment. This was the reason I killed evil men. This is what God intended for us all along, and I'd be damned if I was going to ignore our calling.

_Destroy __all that which is evil so that which is good may flourish. _

"Jose." I said softly, as if I could wake the drugged up girl in bed. I looked him dead in the eyes as I spoke, still holding Maria's hand. "I won't rest until he's dead."

Jose fixed me with a stare equal in intensity to the one I gave him. "And neither will I."

**Ericka POV**

It took forever to get Connor out of the ER. As soon as Murph had left, the head nurse popped her head into the exam room, demanding that I was to "Stop flirting with my patient" and help patch up the other people in the ER. Two hours later, I finally managed to make it back to Connor, who was all sorts of pissed off, still waiting to get medical treatment. Murph came back as I started to pull the pieces of broken glass out of Connor's face. He looked just as irritated that Connor was stuck waiting. Waiting had become second nature to me- It was something I had become used to, seeing as how the ER I worked in was both incredibly understaffed and most of the staff we had were incompetent idiots to begin with.

"Why can't they do something for him now?" Murph had asked, pacing the room.

I cocked my head at him. "Because a person who has had a fork stuck in their stomach is more likely to bleed out and die as opposed to a person with a broken arm and a dislocated shoulder and therefore requires medical attention in a much more timely manner, that's why."

Connor shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "She's got a point."

Murph made a face. "Could at least put your shoulder back in place. We've done that ourselves, what, 'bout a hundred times?" It was Connor's turn to make a face. He sighed and nodded reluctantly.

"Aye. Let's fuckin' get it over with." I stepped out of the way and let them do the work- they apparently knew what they were doing. After a few seconds, the sound of bone on bone and a slew of curses in a variety of languages greeted my ears. I looked back at the twins- Connor tested out his shoulder, winced, and nodded to Murph. "Hurts every fucking time." He commented. Murph gave a sympathetic grimace and ran a hand through his shaggy hair.

"I need a smoke after that." He shuddered and walked out of the room hurriedly. I raised an eyebrow at Murphy's out of character reaction. Connor chuckled. "He's fine. He's just worried."

"Never struck me as the 'worry' type."

"Then you haven't been around him long enough. Wait until you catch a cold- he'll be cramming every cold pill and vitamin he can find down your throat." I laughed as a doctor finally came into the room to cast Connor's wrist. It was another hour and half before we were able to leave the hospital. Murph had disappeared, a fact that concerned me but Connor shrugged off his absence with a knowing look. "He can take care of himself. He'll turn up."

We walked through the automatic sliding doors of the lobby and were greeted by sheets of cold rain.

"Holy shit!" I gasped, already drenched.

"My place or yours?" yelled Connor.

"Mine! It's closer!" I bellowed back.

He grabbed my hand and started to run in the direction of my apartment. We ran through the puddles as we crossed the streets, avoiding the cars that were trying to maneuver through downpour.

"Since when the fuck does it rain in December?" I shouted to no one in particular. Connor turned sharply into quite possibly the creepiest alleyway in all of south Boston, dragging me with him. "What in the hell?" I screamed at him. I wasn't afraid of him per say- I was more afraid of breaking the cardinal rule for every female living in a big city- Never, under _any_ circumstance go into an alleyway late at night.

_It's like in those movies- guy and girl enter alley- enter deranged serial killer- slashing and hacking take place. _I was about to lose it on Connor.

"I do NOT like this shit! Let go of me!"

My further protests were cut off as he pushed me-one- handed nonetheless- into a brick wall and kissed me- hard. I stopped fighting instantly and kissed back, grabbing tight to the front of his coat and pulling him as close to me as I could. My knees grew weak and heat rushed up to my cheeks. He broke the kiss first; He pulled away suddenly and I found myself gasping for air and grasping for the last remnants of my sanity. "Breath, _aingeal._" He whispered, though I noted the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

"What was- what the-"

"Ever hear of taking shortcuts?" His eyes glinted mischievously. I was fuming- and he knew it too. "Sorry, love. Wanted to see if it was like the movies." His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as he smiled down at me. Whatever ill-will I had towards him at that moment vanished- he was so damn cute.

This man wasn't a killer. He didn't have blood on his hands, and he wasn't on some mission from God- In that moment he was simply a rain soaked, twenty seven year old man with a love for film and the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen.

The rational, logical, and smarter side of my brain screamed at me- it was absurd, it was stupid, it was ridiculous that one man could make such an utter mess out of me- but the overly emotional, sentimental, and dreamy side of me apparently sucker-punched it's logical counterpart and told it to promptly sit back and shut the fuck up.

"Kiss me again. Please." My voice came out meek and pathetic sounding, but I didn't care- I needed to feel his lips on mine, to confirm that I had indeed lost it and was imagining the butterflies in my stomach and the warmth flooding my body. Connor brushed a strand of hair out of face; I closed my eyes as his fingertips traced over my cheekbones, nose, lips- I opened my eyes as he wound his hand into my hair and saw him staring intently at me. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to forget your face." He spoke softly, trying to explain himself- not that he needed to. He walked on water for me. After a moment, he slowly leaned into me and kissed me as softly as he had spoken. My head spun pleasantly. The world stopped for me- heaven and hell could have been at war with one another and I wouldn't have noticed.

We broke apart; I noticed the rain hadn't let up any. I looked around nonchalantly, finally composed. "So, care to show me where this shortcut of yours leads?"

He took my hand in his and started to pull me along, a stupid grin plastered onto his face. "Gladly."

**Yay, lighthearted ending! We haven't had one of those in a while! Now, click the 'review' button and leave some feedback- C'mon now! I know you want to! :)**


	11. Plan

**Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, BDS is not my creation, etc. **

**AN: So, all good feelings are gone in this chapter. You've been warned. **

**Ericka POV**

_Blood. So much blood everywhere._

_My hands were in latex gloves. _

_My gloved hands were bloody._

_My gloved hands didn't know what to do, so I stood there and stared. _

_My ears strained for the beeping- the horrible beeping that meant he was alive. But there was no beeping. Just horrible, awful silence. I looked down at the man in front of me. He had tattoos and gunshot wounds. His limp hand was wrapped around a rosary- the word on his trigger finger-__'Aequitas' stood out to me, like black ink on paper. _

"_Murph__" I whispered in horror. "Nein! Nein!" _

_Another man stood at my side. He had a gun in his hand, the word 'veritas' on his trigger finger. He stared at me accusingly. "__Sie haben wir im Stich gelassen." He whispered. _

I jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. I took a couple deep breaths, willing myself to calm down. Connor's arm was wrapped loosely around my waist; he was still fast asleep, something I was grateful for- I wasn't much in the mood to explain my latest bad dream. I laid there for a few minutes listening to him breathe.

The last two weeks had been wonderful- I saw both Connor and Murphy every day, and Connor had stayed with me most nights. Murph took to crashing in my spare bedroom on the nights he invited himself over. I made them keys to my apartment- they were there so often anyways, I figured I might as well. Rocco made an occasional appearance, though I was still having a difficult time warming up to him- the Italian man had rubbed me the wrong way.

I was glad for their sudden presence in my life- I hadn't realized how miserable I had been until they showed up out of nowhere. Murph was quickly becoming something akin to an older brother to me, and Connor, well; he was nothing short of wonderful. I had never had a man treat me like he did. It was the little things he did that I never considered before; He insisted on opening doors for me and walking me home from work if I had late night shifts. It was taking some getting used to, admittedly. I was still a staunch believer in my independence.

That being said, there were a few things about sharing my living space with the twins that really annoyed me. They were atypical men, not picking up after themselves, hogging the TV remote, leaving the toilet lid up, drinking the last beer in the fridge and not telling anyone, leaving their guns lying around…

I would never forget the day I woke up to find two black duffels on my kitchen table, full of guns, ammo, and rope. At the time, I could only assume they were the twins', and I could tell whose duffle was whose by the rope- Murphy's rope was carelessly thrown into the bag while Connor's was knotted up and coiled neatly. Connor and Murphy came in front that patio and saw me pawing through them. After a rather loud shouting match, I point blank told them to keep their weapons out of my sight if they felt that protective of them. I hadn't seen either of the duffels since, nor had I seen any guns- though I was positive they kept at least one on them at all times.

I closed my eyes and sighed, trying to fall back asleep. I had almost succeeded when I heard noises coming from Murph's room. I frowned to myself, looking at the clock on my wall. _It's 1am, what the hell is he doing?_

I gently untangled myself from Connor's grasp and got up from the couch, walking cautiously to his room. I heard the muted clanking of metal on metal, like someone was shuffling the contents of a bag around.

And then game of connect the dots was over- I knew what was going on- _Now to figure out why Murphy _is_ grabbing his guns in the middle of the night. _

Quietly I opened his door and stepped inside. He didn't notice me at first. I stood against his door frame, watching what seemed to be a sort of ritual for him. His guns and bullets and Rambo-esque knife were all arranged in certain way in his bag, rope thrown in as a clear afterthought. He counted out pennies from a jar on his dresser and slipped them into the pocket of his coat, wearing black gloves. He zipped up his bag and took off his gloves long enough to drop to his knees and clutch onto a rosary, whispering a prayer in a language I didn't understand. He crossed himself as he stood up, pulling on his coat and gloves. He bent to pick up his bag, and froze finally noticing me.

"Ericka-"

"The fuck are you doing?" I demanded.

"None of your fucking business." He said coldly, slinging his bag over shoulder. He made to walk past me out the door but I moved in front of him.

"I think it is my fucking business." I snarled, sleep deprivation loosening my tongue. "This is MY apartment I'm letting you and your brother and Rocco run in and out of like it's a fucking halfway house or some shit. If someone is going to come back here from a job, I want to know what the fuck to expect- potential injuries, arrival and departure times, a whole fucking itinerary and packing list if I goddamned feel like it." I took a breath and held it in, attempting to stop the angry tirade coming from my mouth. I knew Murphy knew what he was doing, and was damn good at it too. But I wasn't going to apologize- I did need to know at least the very basic details in order to keep my sanity.

"Speaking of, does Conn know you're going out alone, without him?"

Murphy rolled his eyes at me. "Conner isn't my keeper, I can-"

"-take care of yourself, yeah yeah, I got it, I know. But this isn't like going out to a bar and finding your way home when you're plastered! You're going out and you're going to kill someone. Don't lie to me, Murphy. I know better." My anger turned into frustration, and tears pricked the back of my eyes. I blinked them away and clenched my fists at my sides, looking him in the face. Murph's face softened for a brief moment before he clenched his jaw tight.

"I'm not telling you more than you need to know. But yes, I'm going out to kill a man, and no, Connor has no idea, and he won't know until long after the fact. Got it?" he hissed.

I held back tears as I glared at him, knowing that whatever he had decided, his mind had been made up for a good while; there was no changing it. "You better come back in one piece." I warned, willing my voice not crack. "You drank the last beer; it's your turn to restock the fridge."

Murph saw right through my bad attempt at humor, but thankfully said nothing. He pulled me into a one armed hug and kissed the top of my head. "Guinness on me, got it." He said, walking away. I waited until I heard the lock on the front door click before I went back out to the living room, closing the door to Murph's room behind me. I laid back down on the couch carefully so to not wake Connor. I listened to his steady breathing, silently whispering every prayer I could think of for both Murphy and his soul, just in case something went wrong_. _

_Just in case. _

**Connor POV**

I'm not sure what woke me from a dead sleep- all I knew was that I was wide awake- and something wasn't right.

The clock on the wall read it was almost 2am. Ericka was still laying next to me on the couch. I listened for any unusual sounds, but heard nothing. I glanced down at Ericka and listened harder. Her breathing wasn't deep like it was when she was sleeping.

"Talk to me love." I rubbed her arm. "I know you're awake." She slowly let out a breath and rolled over to look at me, eyes dark and distant.

"It's two in the morning, go back to bed." She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. I smirked to myself, idea blooming in my head.

"Can't sleep." I kissed her neck playfully, unwarranted anxiety forgotten. She pushed me away, giving an irritated sigh as she got up from the couch and walked to the bathroom, leaving me alone in the darkened living room.

_What the hell did I do? _

I rubbed a hand through my hair, confused. Ericka had seemed perfectly fine earlier. Somewhere between falling asleep on the couch and when I jerked awake, something had royally pissed Ericka off. I swore aloud in French, deciding that I needed a smoke to calm my nerves- among other things.

I got up from the couch, grabbing my coat off the kitchen table. I patted down my pockets for my smokes, coming up empty. _Damnit. _I forgot Murph had taken my last one earlier in the day, swearing he would pick up a couple packs on his way back from Roc's.

M_ight as well collect now. _I walked to Murphy's room and opened the door quietly, so I wouldn't wake him. To my surprise, there was no loud snoring coming from the bed.

_That's odd._

I flicked on the light. There was no sign of Murph anywhere- no clothes on the floor, no cigarettes or spare change on his dresser- nothing. Sudden inspiration made me check the closet where we stashed our bags- and to my horror I only found one black duffle.

"He can't be that fuckin' stupid!"

"No. But he's that fucking stubborn." Said Ericka from the doorway. I rounded on her, furious. "Why'd you let him go on a job alone?"

"Like I could fucking stop him! I don't know where the fuck he went or what the hell he plans on doing!" She balled up her fists like she was going to take a swing at something. Her face was ashen and judging way by the way her shoulders shook, she was upset. She pressed a shaking hand up to her mouth and stared at the floor. Ignoring her, I pulled my duffle out of the closet and dropped to my knees, hurriedly examining it's contents.

Ericka's eye widened. "You're not going after him, are you?"

"Of course I am. That's my fucking brother out there." I was relieved as I found my gear intact. I pulled off my tshirt and pulled on the black turtleneck in my bag, remembering to hide my neck tats this time around and hoping to God that Murph had remembered the same detail.

"Your wrist hasn't healed yet! You're still in a friggen cast!" I raised an eyebrow at her as I got up and pulled on my coat, slinging the bag over my shoulder.

"Oh well." I spat, stalking through the apartment. Re-breaking bones was the least of my worries at the moment.

_Bones heal. Dead people don't._

"Connor." I turned around long enough to look at her. She opened her mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it. Instead she simply nodded her head at me, and I rushed out the door without a further glance. She'd be there when I got back- Murphy wouldn't return with me if I lost any more time, that much I was sure of.

As I walked the freezing streets I blocked out all doubts I had and let my feet guide me. I had no idea where I was going, or what the hell I was doing- all I knew was that my absolute retard of a brother was somewhere in Boston, in way over his head and I wasn't there to bail him out of it.

_Alright, God, if you've got a plan for this shit, help me out. A little divine intervention here? _

As I walked past an alleyway, a glint of a shiny something on the ground caught my eye. I looked closer and saw two burnished copper pennies placed heads-up on the front steps of a building.

_Divine intervention indeed. _

I looked at the building itself- a rundown bar with a Russian flag hanging in the window. I smirked at both the ingenuity and stupidity of my brother. _Who else uses pennies as their calling card besides us? _

_At least he knew to leave our mark…just in case… _

Just in case.

**Murph POV**

The plan had been simple- mind numbingly so. No crawling through air ducts, no surprise ambushes- just a simple walk in, shoot the shit with the man we were looking for, follow him out of the bar, and shoot the shit out of him- which was mainly Jose's role in the whole thing; I planned to stay on the sidelines while Jose executed him (after all, it was _his_ revenge, not mine. I was simply a mediator in the situation.)

Simple enough, right?

I should have known before I had even left Ericka's apartment that it was a horrible plan. Bad omen number one: Ericka had walked in on me packing my shit and had actually been visibly upset- not a typical thing for her. Bad omen number two: I had run out of cigarettes earlier in the day and forgot to get a new pack, something virtually unheard of since I had picked up the habit. Bad omen number three: I had missed church that morning.

Still, I decided to go ahead and go through with it. Jose and I agreed on it that night in the ICU- he told me every single detail he could think of and we formed our seemingly fail proof plan from there. I wasn't going to bail because I had a few nerves about doing a job solo. It was my honest opinion Connor needed a break from the blood and bullets routine- he had seemed much more like his old self the last couple weeks- he was genuinely happy again and he had a good thing going with Ericka; I wasn't about to ruin that for him and in any case his wrist was still broken. This job was so cut and dry, in-and-out that I doubted I would need more than an hour or two to complete it and back at the apartment, with Connor none the wiser.

I met Jose in front of the hospital. He looked anxious, shivering with his back to the wind. I put a hand on his shoulder. "You sure about this?" I asked, giving him a last chance to back out. He looked up and nodded.

"Yeah." He scrubbed a hand over his face roughly. "Yeah. Let's do this."

We took separate routes, meeting up on a side street a block from the Russian bar. "He's in there." Jose reported. "Car is out back."

"They believe in gun control?" Jose shook his head. "Everyone in that bar is armed to the teeth, man." I pulled my trusty Berettas out of my bag and loaded them.

"How long you gonna take?" he asked nervously as I concealed my weapons under my coat.

I handed him my bag. "Hold onto that for me. Meet you at his car in an hour." I walked out of the alley onto the brightly lit street. There was no one around, the night silent aside from the buzz of streetlights. I took a deep breath and continued onto the bar. It was as rundown as Jose promised, the flag of Otet's motherland in the window. It was impulsive and I couldn't explain why I felt the need to do so, but I took two pennies out of my coat pocket and placed them faceup on the steps of the bar.

_Just in case. _

The bar looked just like every other one I had been in- dimly lit, smoky, pool table tucked into a corner, sticky hardwood floors. I peered around at the room. There were a few men sitting at a table in the corner talking quietly with each other. Another man with short blonde hair sat at the bar, hunched over something- I assumed it was a newspaper or something similar

I didn't see a man that Jose's description anywhere. _Shit…. _

The bartender was staring at me. "Last call's in ten minutes, kid." He said in Russian. Before I attracted more attention to myself I made my way to bar and took a seat.

"Just looking for something to warm me up." I replied back, taking care to keep my Irish accent from slipping into my Russian. Apparently I succeeded because he nodded and slid a bottle of vodka and a shot glass in front of me. I poured myself a shot and downed, trying hard to not make a face as the alcohol burned my throat. Vodka and I had never gotten along well. It made me feel disconnected from the world in a way I wasn't fond of.

The man who sat next to me looked up from his stack of newspapers. "You from Russia?" he asked. His face had a deep scar running across his eyebrow and wore glasses and a neatly pressed suit. Exactly the description Jose had given me.

"Nah. Raised here in the states."

His eyebrows raised behind the thick frames of his glasses. "How is it you speak Russian so well?"

_Trick question. _

I rolled the shotglass around in my fingers."Parents are from Russia. They taught me at home."

Otets nodded his head. "Good parents. There aren't enough of those these days." He appraised me before pouring another shot of the rancid alcohol. He tipped his glass back and I got a glimpse of what he was reading- the opinion page, and glimpsing at the headlines, the topic of discussion was the Saints of South Boston.

"What's your take on them?" asked Otets, pouring me a shot. I took it without grimacing and kept my face carefully blank.

"My take on who?"

"The Saints. I saw you eyeing my paper. They're infamous among us Russians here in Boston. Surely you've heard of them."

"Afraid I don't know of them." I said nonchalantly, sensing the danger that was in front of me. I stood up from the barstool and threw a couple bucks down on the counter. A sharp click stopped me in my tracks.

"Oh, but I'm afraid you do."

He pressed his gun roughly into my ribs, grinding the barrel in deep. "Move. Now." Slowly I walked in the direction he wanted me to go. We walked around the bar and I heard him say to the barman, "Lock it up." as he pushed me through a door.

He pushed me to the floor of what would have appeared to anyone else as a supply closet, but to me was a clear makeshift interrogation room, complete with the clichéd swinging lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and dried blood staining the walls and floor.

_I guess they do this a lot. _

I reached for my weapon again and came face to face with cold steel. He rapped me across the face with his gun and I stumbled a few steps backwards. He picked me up by the throat and pinned me against a wall, tugging off my coat and searching me for weapons. When he had collected everything I had on me he threw me back on the ground and stood watching me with slight interest as I gasped for breath.

"You might have had me fooled but unfortunately for you, Irishman, your Russian is piss-poor with that accent of yours."

He leaned down and roughly pulled down the collar of my t-shirt; His face lit up in a way I didn't like. My stomach dropped as I realized both my neck tattoo and rosary had fully given me away.

_Fuck!_

Otets chuckled to himself as he rolled the beads between his fingers. "So, you're one half of the infamous Saints. I've heard a lot about you from business partners. I thought you would be something more terrifying." He punched me in jaw; I tasted blood in my mouth. "Everyone says you're capable of cold blooded murder with a gun in your hand and your brother by your side." He paused, staring calmly into my face. "Let's see how capable you are without your weapons or your brother."

He handed my coat and guns to the one of the men standing in the doorframe before walking out of the room. The last words I caught before my own personal hell engulfed me sent fear- genuine, undiluted and heart stopping waves of fear throughout by body.

"Have at him, boys,"

**AN: Be kind. Please review. **


	12. Cement Shoes

Disclaimer here: Blah, blah, blah.

**Connor POV**

"Connor?" A voice whispered from the shadows. I pulled out my gun and took aim at the source. To my surprise, Jose stepped out into the light and beckoned for me to join him. Join him I did- I took three furious steps at him and pushed him into the wall.

"Where the fuck is he?" My voice echoed off the brick buildings.

"Inside the Longue!"

"What the- Why is he-" I took a breath in attempt to calm myself down, stepping back from the kid. "When is he supposed to be back?"

He looked at his watch. "Said he be an hour, he's been in there for forty five minutes." I clenched my jaw tight and paced back and forth in a straight line.

Jose stared at me. "I'm sure he's fine, man."

In ignoring his statement the next question came out bluntly. "What's the fucking point of this shit?"

Jose swallowed and looked around wildly as if I was a rabid dog about to bite him. "The whole point of this thing was to kill Otets. The reason he's in there is to get him liquored up, get him talking, get him alone, so I can shoot the son of a bitch. I couldn't just waltz in there, everyone in that bar knows who I am."

_Murph, attempting to infiltrate the close knit Russian circle? He doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell. That's like fucking suicide. _

"Does he have a death wish?" I muttered aloud. Another question came to mind as I stared down Jose. "Why didn't I know about this?"

He shook his head. "I dunno man. It was his idea- this plan and shit. You'll have to ask him."

"Oh trust me, I will."

_Assuming he's alive and in once piece when I see him next..._

I leaned against the wall, taking a page out of Murphy's book and gnawingon my thumbnail. "Ten minutes." I said aloud.

Jose gave me a confused look. "Until?" I waved my gun at him, feeling it was pretty obvious what I meant.

"Until we go in after him."

**Murph POV**

It was agony after the second man.

There were four, maybe five of them- they all looked the same, so I couldn't be sure. They took turns, punching, kicking, hitting every inch of me they could. I was a good fighter- almost as good as Connor- but I couldn't compete with the damn Russians. They were always a step ahead of me and eventually I just stood there and took the beatings without making a sound, trying to think of ways to escape.

One of the men yanked my head back while another one held a knife- my knife- to my exposed throat. He pressed the blade in deep enough to draw blood, I could feel it leaking slowly down my neck. "I could kill you in the blink of an eye." He whispered in badly accented English. His face was so close to mine, his breath landed on my face. He reeked of alcohol and onions- why that detail stuck out to me, I don't know but the smell was enough to make me gag a little. "I could make it quick- just one slice, and you could bleed out like a butchered pig."

He laughed loudly. "But that wouldn't be fun for me- Argh!" He took a step back as I spit on him. I head butted the guy behind me, getting free of his grasp. The man with the knife grabbed my shirt and got an inch away from my face, knife cutting into my side.

"You'll fucking pay for that." He swore. He delivered on that promise.

I tried to think back to times when it had been worse for us. Getting in bar fights with strangers was bad. Falling out of an airduct while tangled up in rope was bad. The scene in the diner was bad. Chekov chaining my brother to a toilet and dragging me down to an alleyway to execute me was _very_ bad. But we had made it out of those situations.

_And that's the principle of the whole thing._ They had been 'we' things, not 'I' things. Connor had always been with me in those tight situations. Even as kids, Connor almost always took the heat for whatever I did, because that was his job as the older twin, to make sure his brother didn't go and totally fuck things up for himself. But Connor wasn't there this time. Connor couldn't bail me out my present situation. For the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly on my own.

_There's no way I'm going to make it out of here alive_, I knew it as I spat out a mouthful of blood onto one of the Russians' shoes, earning me a sharp knee to the face. The knowledge that I was indeed going to die was empowering in a strange way. _I'm not going down without a figh_t. I straightened up and lunged at the man in front of me, fist connecting with his jaw with a loud crack. He gave a loud groan of pain and a couple other guys rushed forward and ended my sudden second wind with a couple sharp blows to the back of my head and a kick or three to my ribs. I fell to the floor, lightheaded, black spots dancing in front of my eyes.

Everything was in slow motion, like the world was underwater. The hulking Russians were leaving the box-like room, sending scathing glances over their shoulders. The lightbulb swung back and forth, a pendulum of light dancing around. I stared at it, blinking. I could feel my face swelling, bruises blooming. There were deep, bleeding cuts all over my body. I faded in and out of awareness, the pain pulsating. My limbs felt heavy, as if someone had cut them open and filled them with sand or replaced my bones with concrete ones.

_At least they didn't give me cement shoes and throw me off the pier, like in that one movie… The Godfather? I'll have to ask Connor, he'd know…_

It hit me like a train then- I would never see my brother again, would never again drink another beer or start another bar fight for the hell of it with him, or bum a cigarette off of him or be forced to watch another shitty action flick. A whimper escaped my mouth. Even if I could summon the energy to get up off the floor that was covered in my own blood and sweat, I knew there was no way I'd get further than the doorway. They had my guns. They had their own guns. I had nothing but bruised up fists and a broken spirit. Resigned, I laid there, barely noticing the hot tears leaking from my eyes and mingling with the floor.

_It's over. All over._

Loud shouts and noises came from outside the door. Otets came in and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me to my knees. "You Irish fucks!" He slapped my across the face with his gun yet again. "Fuck you! Fuck you!" He pressed his gun to my forehead as he ranted, screaming like a madman. I couldn't make out what he was saying as he lapsed into Russian, nor did I really care. Closing my eyes tight, I wrapped a hand around my rosary and started praying as I saw my end rapidly approaching.

_And shepherds we shall be for Thee, my Lord, for Thee…_

The door burst open again and the screaming became audible. Words in different languages mingled together.

"Where the fuck is he?"

"In here!"

"You're dead!"

_Power hath descended forth from Thy hand.__That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command._

"Murphy!"

_So we shall flow a river forth to Thee. _

"Behind you!"

"Watch yourself!"

_And teeming with souls shall it ever be…_

"SHOOT HIM!"

…. _In nomine Patri, Et Fili, Spiritus Sancti_.

Guns fired loudly. The sound of a body hitting the floor was followed by quiet.

I swallowed, waiting for the bullet to lodged in my body.

"Do it now." I whispered aloud. "Just fucking kill me."

I felt hands on my shoulders. "Murph, Murph! C'mon, open yer fuckin' eyes! Fucking open them!"

_That voice is so familiar. _I thought lethargically. _It almost sounds like…_

"Connor! There's cops coming! We need to leave!"

_Connor? _

I opened my eyes and saw Connor staring me, frantic. "Conn?" I asked in disbelief.

"C'mon Murph. Get up. We need to go." He pulled me to my feet and threw my arm over his shoulder, dragging me along. I went with it, allowing the sudden numbness spreading through my body to overtake me. It made it easier to stumble out of the bar, along dark sidestreets, into another building. It took the edge off of the fact I wasn't, well... dead.

_I'm alive. I'm…alive. _

I was only dimly aware of the yelling around me, the sound of breaking dishes or of a brown haired girl asking me questions and doing enough yelling of her own. "What hurts? What happened? Grab the bag under the sink in the bathroom. Can you feel this? Back off of him- let me fucking work!" It dawned on me who she was.

"Ericka-" I coughed out. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth; I felt myself lurch forward and throw up onto the floor. She pushed me into a chair and handed me something to puke into.

"Murphy…" Her voice was hard and rough, eyes lacking all usual warmth. "What in the fuck were you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," I said weakly "It's nice to be home."

She lost it then, tears streaming down her face. "Did you think at all about what this would to your brother? To Rocco? To me? Is this mission from God all you care about? Is it worth risking your life? Do realize you would be dead right now if Connor hadn't gone after you like a fucking idiot?"

She threw the bottle of rubbing alcohol she was holding onto the floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you two?" She screamed at me.

For once I didn't have an answer. I just sat there in a daze as she eventually stopped crying and went back to cleaning and stitching up the cuts that were still bleeding in complete silence.


	13. Wound Up

**ROC POV**

The phone rang for about the fifth fucking time in two hours. _Fucking Chinese telemarketers that can barely speak English. Do they know we live on different continents? _Groggily, I got off the couch and picked up the phone from the table, knocking over beer cans and old pizza boxes.

"Listen up you fuckin' chinks! I already told you I don't want any!"

"Rocco! Shut up, it's me!" I shook my head at the voice coming through the phone. _Think I'm still drunk. _

"Who is this again?"

"It's Ericka! Listen, Mur-"

"Ah, what the fuck Ericka? It's like two in the goddamned morning. It's a bit late for a social all, don't ya think?"

"Rocco-"

"If it's about the beer, Murphy drank the last fucking one, not me. Go yell at him."

"HE'S GONE FUCKING AWOL!" She yelled. I held the phone away from my ear.

"The fuck are you talking about?"

She explained it to me in a slightly quieter tone, though judging by her voice she was two sheets to the wind with panic. "Murph went out a on a job by himself. I don't know where the fuck he is."

"That's….weird." I scratched my head absently. "That's really weird. They don't do that shit without each other. Where's Connor?"

"He's gone after him."

_Explains why she's freaking out. _

"Alright, hey, calm the fuck down now, alright? They're fine, okay? I've known them boys for years They're smart. They'll come back in one piece."

"Roc." Her voice shook. "I've got a bad feeling about this shit."

I made up my mind then. "Look, I'll go out and try and find them-"

"Not you fucking too!" She yelled. I groaned in frustration. I had no problem with Ericka, except that her cooking royally sucked and she could be a righteous bitch at times. And she was still bitter for my off-the-cuff suggestion of killing her. But Murphy and Connor were pretty good judges of character, and if they were alright with her, then so was I.

"Okay, okay. Look, keep your door locked. I'll be over in twenty." I hung up and glanced around my shitty apartment, trying to locate my keys in the mess. I hadn't cleaned it in…. well, it had been a while. Boxes of take out, liquor bottles, and empty cigarette packs were all over the place. I found my keys on the table, underneath Skippy the cat and a bag of coke. _Donna's back on the wagon, eh? _I made a mental note to throw out both the bag of drugs and the cat belonging to my ex when I came home.

I stumbled over to Ericka's, freezing my ass off. I had to marvel at Murph's tenacity-the cold was unbearable. _Grape nuts. I have fucking grapenuts for nuts. _

Ericka let me into her apartment. While didn't look like she was in a panic, she certainly didn't look calm. She kept fidgeting like Murphy and there was a sharp crease in between her eyebrows, face colorless. She poured me a cup of coffee as soon as I sat down at the kitchen table and went back to pacing. I took a sip of my coffee and watched her.

After about her twentieth lap around the table, I finally pulled her into a chair. "Ericka. Calm the fuck down." She opened her mouth to interrupt me. "No, really, you need to like take a fucking pill or something."

She reached out for a pen lying on table, tapping it against her knuckles with a loud rapping sound. "I can't just calm down, Roc. It's fucking Connor and Murph for Christ's sakes!"

"Which is why you shouldn't be worried. They're fine! They know their shit. They're good." The hotel room full of dead Russian mob bosses came back to me. "Real good actually."

"I don't fucking care how good they are." She said heatedly. "I care that they come back alive!" She was an open book to me at that moment. Every emotion was laid out bare on her face, and it was apparent she was genuinely concerned about them. I decided to ask the question that I had been dying to ask her.

"Why do you care so much about them?" I asked. "You haven't known them long. You could decide tomorrow you hate them or vice versa. C'mon. What makes them so special to you?"

She smiled sadly at me. "They're the closest thing to family I have. Murphy is like a brother to me. And Connor…" her voice trailed off. I finished the sentence for her.

"You're in love with him." I said simply. She stared at me like I had lost my goddamned mind.

"L-love? Are you insane?"

I laughed at her. "Nah. Just observant. You two should see the way you look at each other. It's like the sappy shit you see in movies. You're fuckin' lucky." The last statement was more of a bitter one than anything else. Donna and I at one point were in love with each other, like sickeningly so. Nowadays the apartment we shared was more like a motel for her- She was she used it as a crash pad for when she was coming off the drugs. It was disgusting; She brought on the urge to scrub down with a Brillo pad and bleach anytime she dropped in.

"Anyways," I cleared my throat to change the subject. "I've been meaning to ask you, what the hell happened to you? Like, did you eat paint chips as a child? What?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Come again?"

"Why can't you cook?"

She rolled her eyes at me. I breathed a sigh of relief that she was calm. She wasn't moving around as much and a little color had returned to her face. "I don't see why that bothers you so much."

"I don't see how it's possible. Hell, I can cook and I'm a fuckin' moron."

"You can cook?" She laughed at me. "Bullshit! There's no way!" She got up from the table and filled a glass with tap water.

"I'm Italian, cooking is in the blood! I'll have you know," I raised a finger at her. "I can cook one kickass lasagna."

Ericka's laughter was cut short by the front door bursting open. We looked up to see Connor literally dragging a flattened Murphy into the apartment, followed by Jose. Ericka jumped away from the sink, dropping her glass onto the floor and rushing over to Murphy.

"C'mon Murph, sit down. What hurts? What happened?" She looked at me and pointed to the bathroom. "Grab the bag under the sink in the bathroom." I did as I was told, grabbing the black bag and returning to the kitchen to find Ericka waving Connor off of Murphy. "Back off of him- let me fucking work!" Murphy looked up at her.

"Ericka-" He started heaving and puked up a reddish substance all over the floor. It landed with a sickening splat and the smell was even worse.

Connor grabbed Jose by his shoulder and shoved him into the fridge. He yelled in a language I couldn't make sense of, but it wouldn't take a translator to figure out he was pissed. He drew back his arm to take a swing at the kid. I grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him back before he actually landed a punch. "Connor, come on. Calm down." I pushed him towards the patio. "Kid, get the fuck outta here." I yelled over my shoulder. Jose nodded and ran out without a second glance.

Connor glared at the sky, hands buried in the pockets of his coat. I offered him a cigarette; he took it without hesitation and lit up. "Conn, what the hell's going on?"

"Murph got in over his head, I went to bail him out, end of story." He let out a breath of blue smoke. I stood there with him on the porch in silence, shivering as the wind blew.

"Storm's coming in." I attempted conversation. Connor ignored me. I should have known better then to try and get anything out of him. That was the main difference between the twins- While Murphy was prone to fits recklessness when he was upset, Connor shut the whole damn world out. I accepted defeat after a few more attempts at conversation and clapped him on the back. "Don't stay out here all night."

I went back inside and watched as Ericka patched up Murphy. The scent of the vomit still hung around but sharp smell of rubbing alcohol covered it up; there was a whole pool of it on the floor and the wall. I got a good look at Murph- he looked like absolute shit. His entire face was black and blue, and there was a cut on his neck, like someone had held a knife there. There were numerous marks and welts on his back. I busied myself with cleaning up the pool of vomit on the floor, taking care to not look at him. It was disturbing to see him so fucked up. Sure, I'd seen him after bar fights or even the occasional scrape with Connor, and he looked pretty shitty then. This time, it was different somehow. Maybe it was the obvious tear tracks streaking his bloody face, or maybe it was the dazed look he had; either way it was absolutely unnerving.

Ericka peeled off her gloves and stood up from Murphy's side. She handed him a glass of water and two white pills. "Take those. Go clean up. Watch the stitches." She started to clean up the kitchen-turned-makeshift-ER, never once looking at him. I think it hurt for her to look at him as he got up slowly and limped to the bathroom.

"What's the diagnosis, doc?"

She spoke in detached voice. "Well, he should be in a hospital, but he can't exactly waltz into the ER and explain why he's in his present condition. The excuse of 'I fell down the stairs' wouldn't fly." She pulled a bottle of some kind of cleaner out from under the sink. "He's got a couple broken ribs, a concussion, several shallow stab wounds- My guess is that the attacker stuck the tip of the knife in and twisted it around a few times. All things considered, he's lucky he hasn't bled out internally."

Her voice lost its apathetic tone. "Though, quite frankly, I think it's his mental state we should be more concerned about, not his physical one." I couldn't dispute that. Being beaten within an inch of your life would fuck anyone up in the head.

Ericka sprayed cleaner onto the table and chair. It had a sharp citrus scent. "What'd you give him?"I asked, curious as to the pills she gave to Murph.

"Hydrocodone. It's a painkiller, and when he actually snaps out of the fog he's in, he's gonna hurt something fierce." She started scrubbing down the chair where she stitched up Murphy.

I stood there watching awkwardly for a minute. "Want help?" I asked, moving over to her. She shook her head at me. "You've done enough. Thanks." She scrubbed the chair so fast her arm was a blur. When she was finished with that she moved on to the table, cleaning with just as much vigor. Gently, I put a hand on her shoulder. "Stop cleaning like a methhead."

She threw down the sponge she was holding. "I don't know what else to do."

"Ericka, you know what these guys do. Did you honestly think something like this wouldn't happen?"

She looked at me with sad and tired eyes. "No. But I had my hopes."

"Yeah, well forget 'em." She bowed her head and crossed her arms over her chest, looking suddenly overwhelmed.

"Look, we'll tag team this shit?" I put my hands on her shoulders in a attempts to keep her from having a breakdown on me. The boys, I could deal with them. A hysterical Ericka? Not so much. "Go deal with the human Iron Curtain outside, I'll try and talk some sense into Murphy. Alright?" She nodded and wrapped me in a hug. I awkwardly patted her back, being a stranger to touchy-feely shit.

"You know, Roc, you're not that bad."

I chuckled to myself as she walked to the porch. "Yeah. You either."

**Connor POV**

_This shit is so fucked up. So fucked up._

I stared out at the skyline, ignoring the cold that numbed my face. The last couple hours replayed over and over in my head. It was like watching a bad Infomercial for cleaning products or household appliances, but rather than seeing an ad for a magic blender, I kept seeing my brother, beaten to hell and on his knees, clutching to his rosary and begging for someone to kill him.

"_Do it now. Just fucking kill me."_ The words haunted me, and probably would for the rest of my life. I shuddered.

_How could he just give up? _That part of things made no sense to me. My brother wasn't one to just lay down and take a beating, in any sense of the word. He always- ALWAYS- fought back. _What in the fuck happened in there? _

_Why didn't he let any of us in on it?_

I heard the glass door slide open and footfalls on the wooden deck. "Conn," came Ericka's tentative voice. "Come inside. It's cold out here." I felt her pull gently on my arm. I didn't acknowledge her. I just wanted to be alone, to think, to clear my head, to forget the whole night. Ericka apparently sucked at reading body language, because she didn't back off.

"Talk to me, hon." The slight southern drawl that normally made me smile only served to irritate me further. I heard a sigh and the warmth of Ericka's hand was gone. "If you're going to give me the silent treatment, then at least humor me and do it inside where you won't contract hypothermia." I turned to see her walking inside the apartment. It looked warm in there. My feet did my thinking for me; I followed her inside.

She leaned against the counter with a cup of coffee in her hands. She took a sip and surveyed me. _I feel like I'm under a friggen microscope. _I shrugged out of my coat and sat down at the table, avoiding her gaze. Ericka set down her mug and crossed the tiny kitchen in three steps.

"How's the wrist?"

"Fine." I said, speaking for the first time in what felt like hours. My voice sounded strange to me.

She examined the cast that encased my left wrist. "No soreness, no pain?"

I shook my head at her. "Nope." She let go of my arm and went back to her coffee. She wasn't drinking it, just holding it and occasionally tapping her fingers against the ceramic. That was one of her nervous ticks; She had to have something in her hands if she couldn't move around freely. I glanced at the clock. A little before five.

_There's no way I'm gonna be able to sleep. Too wound up. _

Ericka looked drained. I felt a pang, knowing that she had one of her twelve hour shifts starting in a few hours. I walked over to her and pulled the cup out of her hands, knowing she would attempt to stay up with me if I didn't make her get some shut eye. "Go to bed." She made a whiney noise and said something completely unintelligible. "C'mon. Let's go." She shrugged away from my hand.

"Only if you come with me." She mumbled as she spoke, but her eyes were the sharpest they'd been in the last twenty minutes. I nodded, acknowledging that I had little say in the matter. I allowed her to lead the way to her bedroom, pulling off my clothes and crawling into bed. Her sheets were the crisp, clean kind that were always cold. Ericka inhaled sharply as she laid down next to me. I reached out and pulled her close to me, suddenly wanting the comfort that only a warm body could provide. The smell of Ericka's perfume- a subtle, woodsy one- hit me as she slowly climbed on top of me. I let my hands wander over her bare back as she kissed me, exploring her curves and letting her take over. I needed someone else to think for me.

_Oh God, I need this._

Soon we were just a tangle of limbs, two people moving as one in a cold and darkened room. Nothing mattered then but us.

_The world can wait. _


	14. Done

Disclaimer- I own nothing, etc.

**AN- OMFG, this took me so friggen long to write. I'd appreciate any and all feedback for this chapter, seeing as how I really struggled with it. (In all truth, I'm not even sure I like this chapter, but this is the way it came out, and I don't feel like taking the time to rewrite it. Again.) Anyway... here's the next chapter!**

The sound of an alarm clock from the room across the hall jarred me awake. Waking up came as a surprise. I didn't remember laying down or passing out. Hell, I didn't even remember making it in the door. My mind, for once, was pleasantly blank- no lingering bad dreams, no sense of impending doom. It was a good feeling to wake up unburdened. I laid in bed listening to the sounds of Ericka's morning routine- she had to be the one up and moving around the apartment, the motions sounded too clumsy to be Connor or Roc. As if on cue, the sound of something landing on the tile floor of the bathroom followed by a flustered, "Ah, damnit!" confirmed my suspicions.

Grinning to myself, I sat up and stretched- and was then hit by a wave of pain. The kind of pain you get when you go running or attempt working out when you're severely out of shape. Or maybe it was the kind of pain you get when you nick yourself a million times shaving. Or maybe it was the kind of pain where you drank way too much, got in a bar fight and had a couple wine bottles smashed against your skull.

Or maybe it was all of the above amplified by ten. Either way, whatever good feeling I had before, it was long gone and replaced by annoyance.

I rubbed my face, trying to wake up, convinced all I needed was a cup of coffee and a couple Dayquil to shake off whatever bug I had caught. I could feel the bruises as I pressed my fingertips to my cheeks.

_That's weird. I don't remember getting into any fights last night._

I got off the bed and walked over to the mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door. I was puzzled. The mirror wasn't reflecting me. The man looking back at me was covered in bruises and stitches. He had a bandage on his throat and dead, expressionless eyes.

_That can't be me. My eyes don't look like that._

I raised a hand to my neck; there was gauze pad taped in place. I tore it off quickly, anxious to see what was there. A thin line ran across my neck.

I took a deep breath and backed away, grimacing at both thought of facing my brother and the answered questions. I chewed on my fingers as details from the night came slowly leaking back.

_What happened to my weapons? Otets, is he dead? Jose? Did he make it out alive? How in the hell did Connor find me? How in the hell did I not die last night? _

I had the distinct feeling any surviving Russians from the bar wouldn't have to worry about the job not being done; Connor would finish it for them as soon as we crossed paths again. And Ericka would probably have her turn at me after the fact. I groaned.

_Yep. Dead man walking. God have mercy on my soul. _

The apartment was quiet now. I ventured out of my bedroom, desperate for a smoke. I was surprised to see that the place wasn't in shambles. Actually, it was immaculate as ever; aside from a pill bottle and a pack of smokes on the coffee table, it looked as lived in as a furniture ad. There was a note tucked underneath the pack of Marlboros. I picked it up and scanned over it as I shivered, half debating on putting a shirt on. The thought of raising my sore arms above my head quickly killed that idea for me.

The note was written in Ericka's handwriting- a rather unique form of barely legible chicken scratch. _Take two of these. Don't rip your stitches or I'll have to kill you. Feel free to smoke inside._

"Obliged." I muttered aloud as I lit up a smoke. My lips pulled into a smirk as I read the postscript she had left at the very bottom of the page.

_Ps- You so owe me that six pack. _

I finished my cigarette and after dry swallowing two of the pills from the orange bottle sat down on the couch, sinking into the cushions as I waited.

I heard a door open and the sounds of feet shuffling against carpet. Connor walked right past me, not even noticing me as he made a beeline for the coffee maker. I heard him pour a cup and move around the kitchen, no doubt hoping for a pack of Marlboros to turn up. "Fuck," he muttered after turning up empty handed on his futile search.

I cleared my throat. "Smokes are over here."

Silence filled the air, followed by slow and calculated footfalls. I held my breath as Connor sat down on the couch next to me, coffee cup in hand. He took a sip and let a few more moments of silence follow."Nice to see you alive, brother." I didn't miss the clipped tone of his voice.

"Nice to be living." I shot back, knowing already I should have just kept my smartass retort to myself. He set his cup down and sat back, not looking at me. I didn't say anything; I was waiting for him to finally lose his composure on me, because after the shit I had pulled, well, I deserved it. Even if it was justified shit, shit with a purpose behind it, it was all just…. Shit.

A light bulb flickered over my head, like gears were starting to click together. _Is any of this shit worth it? _I was really starting to wonder. Connor interrupted my sudden wavelength as he turned his head in my direction.

"You're a fucking idiot, ya know that?"

I nodded. "Ya. You're right."

His face scrunched up as he yelled. "I fucking know I'm right! For fuck's sakes Murphy! What in hell were you thinking? Why didn't you tell us, let us help? It's not like we haven't done that shit a million times-"

"I thought I had it covered."

"Doesn't fucking matter! You almost got yourself killed!"

"Could have happened even if you had been there."

His jaw tightened. I had struck a nerve. "Why didn't we know about it?" he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Pretty simple actually." I stood up and started to walk away."You didn't need to know about it." Connor jumped from the couch in a rage and tackled me to the floor. A fistfight or wrestling match with my brother was nothing new. It was how we settled spats, how we bonded half the time. This was no friendly fight, however. This was a drop down, drag-out fight with the sentiment of "Fuck you, I'm royally fucking pissed at you" attached to it.

"What. The. Fuck." Connor spat out as he punched and I dodged them as best as I could. "Didn't need to know? Fucking hell Murphy!" This time he landed a blow to my jaw. I shoved at him, throwing a random left hand at him. He grabbed it and twisted it around behind my back, pinning me to the ground. I felt an odd sensation along my ribs, like something was ripping apart. I heard Connor hoarsely whisper, "Oh, shit" and he was suddenly off of me and pulling me from the floor. I looked down and saw blood on the carpet. My stitches had ripped during the fight.

I groaned remembering the note. "Ericka is going to kill me." I muttered, slowly walking to the bathroom with my twin right behind me. I looked in the mirror and saw the wound that was oozing blood. I pulled out the bag from under the sink and dug around until I found the thin string Ericka used to stitch the rest of my cuts up with. Connor made to step in but stopped after I sent a glare his way. "Back. Off." He stood in the doorway while I patched myself back up.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked as I tied the ends of a suture.

"Ericka's textbooks from nursing school." I grit my teeth as I stuck the needle through my skin again. It really was like sewing, but with your flesh. Not a pleasant feeling. "Been reading through them, you know. In case shit like this happens."

Connor was silent as I finished up the last stitch and put everything away. I expected him to step in, doing the typical Connor thing, but he just stood to the side and out of the way, watching with a guilty look on his face. I left the bathroom and plopped down on the couch, lighting up another smoke. I threw the pack at Connor who lit up just as quickly. He rubbed his face and sighed.

"Look, I'm-"

"Forget it. I deserved it." His eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Sure you're not suffering from any brain damage there?"

I snorted. My head was the clearest it had been since Saint Patty's day. _Funny how it took almost getting yourself killed to figure shit out. Maybe you should take a beat down more often._

"What happened to Otets?" I asked, getting down to the important shit, to what I needed to know. Connor let out a breath of smoke. The living room was hazy from us smoking. "He's dead. Very dead. Jose shot 'em right between the eyes." I cringed, more at the bluntness of the statement than the imagery it conjured up.

"And his men?"

"Dead, or at least the ones that were in the bar. Probably has more out there…" His voice was thoughtful, like he was actually entertaining the idea of gunning down the rest of them. I sure as hell wasn't in the mood to do so.

"Conn," I gnawed on my index finger. He looked up and suddenly he was on his feet, pacing the tiny living room. He already knew what I was going to say, and I already knew he didn't like it. I watched him for a brief moment as he walked in a circle, noting how odd his reaction was. _I _was the twin that was restless. _I_ was not the calm twin- that was Connor's job. But somehow, we had swapped positions. _Role reversal._

"You really think we'll be doing this shit forever?" I asked.

He threw his hands in the air. "Not necessarily. I just…" He bit his lip. "This isn't our fucking call is it?"

"Fuck you talking about? Of course it's our call."

"No it's not! You had the same fucking dream, had the same fucking words delivered to you! It's God's call, not ours!"

"We have a say in this shit. And what if we interpreted it wrong? What if we weren't supposed to kill those people-"

"They were all bad men!" His voiced was strained, like he was trying to justify it.

"I'm not disagreeing with ya. But what if we took it too far?" I said, voicing a concern that had been with me for months. "What if we were wrong?"

"I don't know... I guess we were wrong." He stopped his pacing and sat down on the couch, staring at the muted TV. "I can't just forget everything we've done, act like nothing fucking happened. We killed people in cold blood. We held guns to their heads, said a prayer for them and then shot them." He looked lost, dazed. Actually, he looked how I felt on the floor of the bar the night before- lost, confused, and a little hopeless. "We made this our whole life. How could we stop?"

"Consider it retirement?" I shrugged half heartedly. He scoffed. "Look. After last night…. I'm fucking out. I'm done. I can't do this shit anymore." My leg bounced up and down at a frightening pace. "If you want to keep going, fine, but do it on your own or with Roc. Whatever. I just want some part of my life to be normal. And I don't want to fucking die with some Mafioso holding a gun to my head!" I fought against the urge to just break down and cry again; the god-awful memory of cold steel pressed to my forehead was still all too strong.

Connor opened his mouth to speak but shut it and hunched over. "And what about you?" I asked. "Don't you want life to be normal again? You always wanted the whole white picket fence thing. To get married and have kids and own a dog." Not that he had ever told me this, but my brother was the type to want that kind of shit. "You really think if we stick with this that you'll get that chance? You really think Ericka will want to stick around if you come home looking like I did last night?" The last question was one we could both answer with an absolute no.

He glanced up and me before leaning back into the couch cushions. "You're right." He said.

"I fucking know I'm right."

He pursed his lips for a brief moment. "We still have to take out Papa Joe. Roc is totally fucked until he's dead."

Connor made a very valid point. As much as I never wanted to touch a gun again, I knew we had to do right by Roc. _Maybe we can convince him to move out to New York with his sister, get him out of Boston. _

"It's too hot here," said Connor suddenly. "We all need to leave."

I furrowed my brow. "Any ideas as to where to go?"

He had a faraway look on his face. "California? Ok, not there." He said hastily noting my incredulous expression. "Shit, I don't know."

"Arizona? It's hot there."

He shook his head as a calm smile broke out across his face. "Ireland. Let's go home." I found myself grinning back at the idea. I missed the rolling hills, the perpetual chill in the air, the fog that covered the ground in the morning. In truth, I had been homesick most of the time I had been in the States. Probably the reason why my alcohol tolerance was so damn high.

It was so simple and I felt the weight fall off my shoulders. After we tied up all the loose ends we had here, we could simply hop a plane or a ship and go home. Such a simple fucking plan.

There was only one problem with the whole idea.

"What about Ericka?" I hated the idea of ditching the feisty brunette- She was like the younger sister I never wanted. And Connor would never get over it. _Actually, he'd probably die of a broken heart._

Connor, instead of punching me for my suggestion, simply smirked his infuriating _I-know-all-I-and-I-should-be-a-god _smirk. "That could be problematic. But…." He paused for dramatic effect. "Something tells me she won't be too opposed to the idea of coming with us." Of course he would have thought that out long before I did. Still, it was nice to know that we had a real plan this time- not a half cocked one that was likely to blow up in our faces.

There was still one thing nagging at me. "So, what happened to my guns?" Connor got up from the couch and walked to the corner of the living room, throwing a familiar black duffel at me. I caught it, wincing slightly as my sore arms burned. After going through it, I sighed a prayer of relief that everything was there- Berettas, rope, knife- which was still crusted in dried blood.

"Jose grabbed it all before we left. I'm glad he had the head to grab it all, I sure as hell didn't." He glared at me as I stood up to throw it back in the corner. "I swear if you pull that shit again, I'll kill you myself." Then he did a very un-Connor-like thing and wrapped me in a brief hug. I clapped his shoulder before walking away, not missing the throat clearing he was trying to cover up.

"Duly noted."


	15. Skippy

**Disclaimer- I own nothing. Der. **

**AN- So, I'm going to upfront here, this chapter was taken straight from the movie. I tried to add in a few things here and there that would make it less of a transcription of the movie, but essentially it's the cat killing scene. I'm trying to stick with the storyline of the movie as best I can while still leaving room for my OC's- which is fairly difficult, considering the BDS series really doesn't leave room for the mushy gushy love stuff- but i'm still trying!**

**Connor POV**

Roc stared at us with us with his mouth wide open. After a solid minute of looking between us, he simply picked up the bottle in front of him and took a long pull before putting the bottle down.

"Well….he took that better than I thought he would." Said Murphy dryly in between his own shots of whiskey. He looked much better than he did a week ago, stitches removed and bruises mostly faded. The cut on his throat was all but gone, nothing but a faint thin line remaining. Even the perpetual circles under his eyes had faded a little.

Roc shook his head at us again. "So that's it. You guys are just…. Walking away? Man…." He took another large swallow of alcohol. "You guys are fucking crazy. Bat shit insane." His eyes had the slightly glazed over look of a soon-to-be-very-drunk man. "Fuck… I'm fucked."

"No, you're not." I said sharply, trying to keep him from freaking out. "We're still getting Papa Joe. No worries. You'll be home free soon." He looked at me confused, then simply nodded and opened a beer. Following suit, I leaned back in my chair and stretched out, watching Rocco and Murph attempting to take shots of tequila. _To-kill-ya _as Ericka fondly call the substance. I shared the sentiment- the shit made me feel like dying the next morning.

I took a shot with them anyway, because, well, why the hell not? Everything was working out- We had our plans to take out Papa Joe drawn up, we were going to give up the blood and gore, and I was going home with both my brother and my girlfriend- For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. The light was at the end of the tunnel, and by God I was already basking in it.

Ericka's reaction had been priceless. We had been standing on her porch, watching the first snow fall of the season in silence when I broke the news to her.

"Hey, _aingeal…" _She turned her eyes up at me, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

"We're done. We're…leaving."

Her face turned stony. "Come again?"

"We're going home, Murph and me. Back to Ireland." She nodded her head and sighed, pulling out of my arms.

"For how long?"

"We, uh, don't plan on coming back."

She crossed her arms and turned her head away. "Should have fucking known…" She muttered. "Should have known." Her voice cracked a little, and instantly I grabbed her and pulled her to me, frantically trying to clarify.

"Shit, no! No, Ericka, I forgot to tell you- We're taking you with us!" Her brow furrowed in confusion. "That is if you want to." I said hurriedly. "Though I don't think Murph could live without ya, and I don't know if you want that on your conscience."

She punched me in the shoulder as she laughed in relief, face alight with excitement. "Of course I want to come with y'all, ya moron! I love you!"A heavy silence fell. She looked shocked by the words that had just left her mouth. She spoke slowly, almost like she was weighing the statement on her tongue. "I fucking love you, Connor."

"Good." I grinned down at her like an idiot, blissfully happy in a way I never thought possible. "'Cos I've loved you since the day I first laid eyes on ya, lass."

"Not true." She scolded, not missing a beat, though not managing to lose to the wide smile on her face.

"Not true?"

"We met once before, at McGinty's. I believe your brother was attempting to hit on me, but you stepped in for whatever reason and dragged him back to the bar. Didn't even give me a second glance."

I frowned. "Must have been pretty drunk that night to not have noticed you."

She grinned. "You were drunk enough to get into a barfight and light some guys ass on fire, I know that much."

"You were there on Saint Patty's?" She nodded, apparently coming to the same realization I was. She had been there from the very beginning and none of us had realized it.

_How movielike. _

"Fine. I've loved you since I first laid sober eyes on you." I amended. "Is that better?"

"Much." She said before dragging me inside. I smiled absently at the memory. _Real life can be better than the movies._

"-and then I'm gonna dip my balls in marinara sauce, just so they can get a taste of home while they're at it!" Roc's voice pulled me out of my daydream. I looked up to find him standing up and gesturing to his crotch and yelling at the top of his lungs. Murph simply shook his head at him, chuckling. The cat jumped up on the table, mewing and purring as it wound it's body around a beer bottle, finally settling down on Roc's gun. Roc yelled some more obscenities and pounded his fists down the table, lost in the moment.

_BAM!_

"Oh shit! Fuck!"

"What the-"

"FUCK!"

All of us were up and knocking shit over, checking ourselves for bullet holes while staring horrified at the wall, yelling in half-panic , half-awe: Skippy the cat was now Skippy the bloody splat on the wall.

"Shit!"

Murph stumbled forward and leaned onto Roc for support. "I can't believe that just fucking happened!"

Roc cocked his head to the side. "Is it dead?"

Numbly I wandered back over to the kitchen table as Murph and Roc and stood transfixed in front of the gory mess. I poured myself a shot of whatever alcohol was in front of me and downed it. Murph was suddenly at my elbow, taking his own shot. Roc still stood in front of the wall, head still tilted to the left.

I walked over to Roc and steered him towards the table, Murphy handing him a shot glass full of amber liquid. "And that's why we should have tighter gun control." Roc snorted and swallowed his shot, holding his glass out for another one. I had the uncanny feeling that it was going to be a rough night.

Sure as shit, I woke up in a random corner of the apartment, unsure of how I wound up there and with a heavy head. I rummaged around for my coat and followed a likewise hungover Roc, who had been facedown in a bean bag chair, outside into the alleyway.

We both lit up and smoked for a few minutes in silence.

"Donna gonna be angery about her cat?" I asked. He laughed bitterly. "No,she's on every drug known to man. She would've sold the thing for a fucking dimebag. Screw her." He chuckled. "I do feel like kind of an asshole."

"Yeah, Roc. Sound real remorseful there."

Roc lapsed into a stony silence. "So, you guys are really leavin' eh?"

"Yeah."

"Sucks for me, kinda. Not that I blame you guys or anything, shit. If I could get outta here, I would. Truth is, I'm stuck."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know damn well that I can't just up and leave. Whole damn mob will be after me. And you know what, who knows? Maybe it was a mistake! Maybe Papa Joe didn't mean to set me up. I'm gonna talk to him, set the record straight. If he wanted to kill me, he would've done it by now.""

"Of course he was trying to set you up. You'd been waiting eighteen fucking years, he knows it's your one fucking shot."

"No, no man. That's just not how things are done, you know?"

"Listen, just roll it around a bit on your way in."

"No, nothing needs to be rolled, no-"

Murphy appeared out of nowhere. "Where the fuck are you going?" He looked between the two of us and figured it out instantly. "Are you a fucking retard?"

"Fuck you!"

Murphy let a frustrated growl and shoved him forcefully against the brick wall behind him. "Use your fucking brain! Of course they meant to set you up! Is it so unbelievable they don't fucking care about ya?"

"Hey, fuck you man!" Roc shoved him back and started to walk out of the alley. "Like you two fucking micks know how it works!"

"You life is not something you should gamble on!"

"Fuck it!" Murphy kicked the metal gate in front of him. "Fine! What kinda flowers you want at your funeral, ya dumb wop? Gonna be the last time I fucking see ya!" He walked back inside, already chewing on his fingernails.

"I'll be back at nine! Bury the fucking cat!"

"Listen! If you get in there and start getting a bad vibe, get the fuck out quick!"

I watched Roc walk out my sight and then followed Murphy back inside Roc's apartment. Murphy was taping up newspaper over the spot on the wall. He just shook his head at me and then plopped down in a chair at the table, pulling the phone close to him. I sat down next to him and picked up a random magazine.

_Another long day. Wie wunderbar. _

**Murph POV**

The phone shrieked. I picked it up at lightning speed, annoyed by the alarming number of telemarketers that had called. "Hello?"

"Hey, Murph." I felt a surge of relief.

"Roc, man. You alright?"

"I'm fine." Came his voice through the receiver. "Anyone call for me?"

"No, man." The downbeat tone of his voice made me concerned. "Sure you're alright?"

"Fucking fine. Catch you on the flip side." The line went dead. I slammed down the receiver, thoroughly peeved at Roc, getting a sense of how Connor must have felt when I ran off on my half cocked scheme.

The door burst open and in walked Donna and some likewise cracked out friend, giggling. They stared at us, barely managing to stand upright. Donna ogled at Connor. "Hey," she said, in what was presumably her attempt at seduction. Connor barely glanced up at her, face blank. She looked at me. "Who are you guys?" She giggled in a nasally voice.

"Yeah, are you boys interested?" her friend interjected. "You know," she said, staring at me with Xray vision. "It's the scrawny ones like you that get me hot." I heard Connor make a choking noise next to me. I fought back the urge to openly gag in revulsion.

"You know what? It's girls like you that make me contemplate batting for the other team." The chick looked at me with a rather offended look. I held up an apologetic hand. "Sorry. Just sayin' I'd sooner sleep with a man then sleep with someone as cracked out and STD ridden as you." She gave a tiny _hmph_ noise and then crossed the tiny apartment where she collapsed on the couch with Donna, who was now giggling at something on the ceiling.

"Think that was a bit harsh?" asked Connor, not looking up from his magazine.

"Nope." I said bluntly. He smirked at me.

"Hm. You know, you should call up Smecker. Seemed like the flamboyant type. You know. Since gay is your new thing now."

"Fuck you man!" I made to punch him, but the phone interrupted me. "Hello?" I asked sharply.

"Geez, Murph, take a pill." Came Ericka's voice through the phone. "The hell's eating you?"

"Oh hey, Ericka." Connor's head shot up immediately. "Nothing's eating me-"

Connor grabbed the phone out of my hand. "He's upset that his true sexuality came out. He's in denial- ow!" I thumped him on the back of the head.

Ericka chuckled, along with another voice in the background. "That's a shame." She said, voice wry with amusement. "Because Annie was asking about you, she was gonna have me ask you to come out with us tonight. But if you're gay I'll just tell her you can't come out because you're busy with your lover Pablo-"

"Oi! What, no! Ericka, don't do this to me! I've been eyeing that one for weeks-" I said frantically. The last thing I wanted was to turn down a date with the striking redhead.

She and the other voice cackled evilly. Connor looked at me and then fell into his own fit of laughter. "It's not funny! Shut it, Conn!" Something clicked. "Erm, Ericka? You don't have the phone on speaker do ya?"

"Yes, yes she does." Came the other voice. It was higher pitched and had a soft ring to it. "So, Murphy. Is it a date, or are you indeed busy with Pablo-"

"No! I mean, yes, it's date!" Annie laughed at me. "Alright, see ya later then."

Ericka's voice came back on the line. "Okay, Murph, hand the phone over to Conn. I need to ask him something." Grinning I handed the phone to a breathless Connor, who was wiping tears of laughter from his face. "

I left the room to give them some privacy, choosing to dig around Roc's kitchen for something edible. All I was able to find were a couple things of takeout and a bottle of very old vodka in the freezer. I felt my stomach lurch and promptly put the bottle back where I found it, deciding that smoke was my safest option.

A loud crash came from the living room. I hurried out to hear Roc screaming "Pack your shit! Pack your shit! We gotta get the fuck outta here!""

"The fuck you talking about?" asked Connor who abrubtly hung up the phone. Roc looked like a madman, throwing random shit into a bag. "I fucking killed them! Killed 'em in pieces! I killed 'em all!"

I grabbed his shoulder. "Just calm down, tell us what happened!"

"No! No!" he yelled incoherently

"Rocco!" yelled Donna.

"You excited mother fucker! We gotta go!" Roc continued to move around frantically, waving an iron around in the air wildly. "Hurry the fuck up!"

I felt the urge to clock him in the face" Alright! I fucking love this shit!" I yelled sarcastically.

"What the fuck is wrong with you wrong?" tried Connor again, ever the calm one.

"Thos e cocksuckers sold me out!" I bit back the urge to tell him 'I told you so.' Connor however apparently couldn't resist.

"The fuck did I tell ya?"

"Oh what the fuck?" Roc looked around helplessly. " I did it at the lakeview!"

Connor and I both shook our head and started to gather up what shit we did have stowed away at Roc's.

"Rocco!" Yelled Donna again.

"WHAT?" Screamed Rocco. Donna looked confused. "Where's my cat." Rocco dropped his bags. "I killed your cat, you druggie bitch."

Her mouth was formed into the perfect 'o'. "God…:

"What?" her friend popped in.

"Why?" She asked, voice wavery.

"Because. I thought it would bring closure to our relationship!" He spat at her. Donna continued to whine.

"You killed my... my... "

"Your what? Your fuckin' what? Huh? Your what, bitch?" He held his gun to his head. I made to go after him, but Connor grabbed my shoulder, indictating to just keep grabbing shit and that his little fit would be over soon."I'll shoot myself in the head if you can tell me that cat's name! Go ahead! Your what? Your precious, little..."

"Skippy! Skippy!" Whispered Donna's friend,.

"Oh, Jesus! What color was it, bitch?" He yelled, practically jumping around.

"Don't you fucking yell at her like that you prick!" yelled her chunky friend.

"Shut your fat ass, Rayvie! I can't buy a pack of smokes without runnin' into nine guys you fucked!"

The chick named Rayvie started to cry. Roc turned away from and grabbed his bag off the floor. "Go! Let's get the fuck outta here!"

We walked out to the car, Roc ranting the entire time. "Those rat fucks, all laughing at me and shit-"

"Sure you killed 'em all?" I asked. "Fucking A right I did, had a fucking turkey shoot over there!"

"Roc, did anyone see you?" asked Connor, throwing his armful of shit in the car.

"I might as well have gone around posting flyers." He layed his head down on top of the car, muttering more muffled obscenities.

I clapped him on the shoulder. "Liberating, isn't it?" I asked. Roc looked at me and kind of shrugged, starting to calm down.

"You know, it is a bit."

"Let's fucking go!" yelled Connor. We got in the car and drove across town, trying to get Roc to calm down. It had the opposite of the desired effect however when we drove by a strip club called the Sin Bin.

"There! That's where the fat motherfucker who set me up goes! Jerks off to the same titty dancer same night a week, never misses! He'll be there tonight!"

"So?"

"So let's kill the motherfucker!" He started ranting. "Fuck, I've got addresses, phone numbers, I know who they're fucking!" He went still as an idea formed in his head. "We could kill them all." He practically whispered, sounding like a kid in candy shop.

_He has a point. We could. _I looked to Connor. "So. What do you think?"

He shrugged. "I'm strangely comfortable with it."

I laughed a little, ignoring the sinking feeling in my gut as we drove off, formulating plans to whack our next victim. Not only were we breaking out our guns again before we had planned, there was no way I was going to make that date with Annie.

_Roc was always the ultimate cockblock. _I thought to myself humorlessly. _He fucking owes me a six pack for this shit, at the very least. _

**Review? C'mon, ya know you want to! :) **


	16. Spark

**Disclaimer- Own nothing, etc. **

**AN- I'm going to say this flat out, this was not the best chapter ever. However...I changed the direction of the chapter halfway through writing it. Opps. My bad. :/ **

"What the fuck was that?" I muttered, staring at the phone in disbelief. Annie, the latest addition to the ER staff, looked up at me, chomping on a thick wad of gum.

"What's up, sug?" she asked in a southern accent that was thicker than molasses. The tall and twiggy redhead was born and bred in the heart of Louisiana- How she wound up in Boston was a mystery to me, and she would probably never let me in the whole story. "Let's just say it's a very long and tedious story not worth talking about." She'd say with a wink anytime I tried to pry it out of her.

Which was just as well- it meant I had no obligation to tell her my whole backstory, or anything about the twin's for that matter. Upon meeting Connor and Murphy in passing, she would not leave me alone about them- Murph in particular. "Where are they from? What do they do? Is the one named Murphy seeing anyone?" she asked impatiently. "Because he seems like such a bad boy, and well, I can't resist those kinds of boys."

I promptly held my hands over my ears, refusing to let her scar me any further. "Lalala! Can't hear you! Can't friggen hear you!"

"Oh c'mon!" she whined, pulling my hands away from my ears. "You've had to at least thought about it!"

"Murph? Think of _Murphy_ in a sexual 'hey I wanna bang you' sense? That's so fucking…wrong." I shuddered, not even allowing myself to consider the thought. "The guy is like my brother. Just….no. Fucking no."

"Fucking yes, is what I think you mean." She had said, giving me her trademark smile and wink.

Now, she looked at me intense blue eyes, eyebrow raised in wide arches. "Sug?"

I looked up from the phone and frowned. "I don't know. Connor hung up on me mid sentence." I left out the part where I could hear Rocco bellowing in the background and the general 'oh shit' of the situation. It didn't bode well for me, not at all.

"That's weird." Annie agreed. "Don't worry about it though, you can ask him later. Now," she appraised the charts in her hands. "Do you want the projectile vomiting guy or the moron who stuck quarters up his nose?" I snorted, reaching out for one of the charts at random.

"Shit. I got the vomiting guy. Damnit" I whined. "I guarantee he's gonna puke on my shoes, happens every time I get a barfer!" Annie cringed sympathetically. "Round of shots on me later." She promised, walking off to the waiting room to grab her next patient.

I looked at the clock, wising fervently that the next eight hours would pass by quickly. They didn't, much to my chagrin. For once the ER was void of patients and the night dragged on. I sat at the front desk, reading the newspaper without much interest, counting down the last two hours of my shift and getting antsyer by the second.

"Tráthnóna mo aingeal." Said a familiar voice. I looked up to see Connor slouched over the counter. I grinned up at him, glad to see that whatever had happened on the phone hadn't been serious, therefore forgetting that I was slightly peeved at him.

"Hey babe! What are you doing here, I thought we were meeting up later?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish; I saw that he was wearing his rosary. Not a good sign. "Well…. I just came by to tell you girls are on your own tonight. Something's come up." He said, not quite looking me in the eyes. I squinted at him, vaguely wondering why he hadn't just called.

"Like…." I let my voice trail off, waiting for him to elaborate. He raised his eyebrows at me, looking me dead in the eyes as if to say _Use your brain, we're in public, I can't tell you_.

_Oh. That kind of something. _

I nodded, knowing I would get the gory details from Connor later even if I had to beat them out of him. "Kommen in einem Stück zurück." I said testily before turning back to my newspaper. _Come back in one piece. _

He reached across the desk and cupped my chin. "Gewiβ." _Of course._ He kissed my forehead before turning on his heel and walking away from the desk. Annie walked right past him, grinning from ear to ear and totally oblivious to my sudden sour mood. "Guess who I just saw?"

"Uh…. Murphy?" I guessed, figuring if one MacManus was here, the other wasn't far behind. She squeaked, confirming my theory. "I've got a feeling I'm gonna regret letting you two meet." I muttered. She tutted at me.

"Ah, come on now. We're grown adults. I'm not looking to marry the guy or anything like that. Just looking to have a good time with a nice gentleman."

I put my hand up to silence her. "Need to know basis. This is soo not a need to know situation." I did breathe a sigh of relief that they seemed to be one the same wavelength- talk, hangout, and no-strings-attached casual sex at the most. That was one less thing to worry about. I could handle the boys on their bad days, that I was sure of. But could I handle a heartbroken, lovesick Murphy? Not likely.

_I'd probably kill the poor guy. Though I might have to kill Annie too, if she keeps talking like that. Girl is gonna scar me for life. _

I spent the rest of my shift trying to figure out what shit the boys had gotten themselves into this time. Coming up with nothing, I shrugged it off as I left the hospital with Annie, walking in the direction of my apartment.

"So… did he say why they couldn't make it?" Asked Annie, pouting slightly. "Murphy didn't say why." I shook my head. "Nope. Not a damn clue." Which was only half the truth; They were off doing Saintly things. Connor wouldn't have had his rosary or the extreme look of concentration on his face. What exactly they were doing (or who they were killing, to be blunt) I had no idea.

We walked into my apartment building and up the rickety stairs that creaked under our feet. The building itself had an old, woody smell that was oddly comforting. I smiled to myself as a I dug around my purse for my keys. Annie looked around the hallway, appraising a large crack in the ceiling. "I hope you don't take offense to this, but this place is kinda dumpy."

"Aye. But, it's home." I said wisely, in a faux Irish accent. She snorted at me.

"Aye? What are you? An Irish native?"

"Nope. But I'm dating one. They sort of rub off on you after a while. Aha!" I finally extracted my keys from my mess of a handbag, holding them up in triumph. She rolled her eyes at me as I dropped my bag, contents spilling onto the floor. She grabbed my keys from me and unlocked the door, walking in like she owned the place. I had to chuckle. She was one of the ballsiest and most self assured women I had ever met, and I was certain that I'd never want to cross her. Sudden shouts and curses greeted my ears as soon as Annie disappeared around the doorframe. _What the hell…?_

"Who the fuck is this?"

"NO, Roc!"

"What the fuck?"

"Whoa! Take it easy, boys!"

I groaned aloud, pulling my gun out of my bag and walking in on a rather amusing sight. Roc stood in the middle of the kitchen with a gun pointed at Annie, who had a gun pointed right back at him. Off to the side was an amused looking Murphy and an annoyed Connor, who both had their guns in hand, though neither of them had them raised.

"Well, Ericka, your place is a lot nicer than I thought it would be- you've done a lovely job decorating. However the three men with guns is a slight drawback; it makes your whole apartment seem, I don't know, less inviting maybe?" Annie spat at me, not taking her eyes off Roc.

I shook my head at them. "Roc, put the gun down." I said, waving mine around. Connor furrowed his brow at me. "I didn't know you had a gun, Ericka."

"Of course I have a gun! Who doesn't own a gun?"

Murph stepped in, addressing the situation. "Everyone, just put your damn guns down and let's talk this out civilly."

Annie laughed with mirth. "Alright, fine. We can talk civilly after you explain why in the fuck your friend here is trying to kill me!"

Murph and Connor glanced at each other for the briefest moment. "We, uh-"

Annie waved her gun in the air. "Know what? Nevermind. I don't want to know." She turned on her heel and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. Murph stood staring at the door. Connor ran a hand-the one holding his Beretta- through his hair.

"Ya gonna go after her?" he asked, looking apologetic. Murph pursed his lips and then shook his head. "No. Fuck it. We'll be outta here in a week or two anyway…." He threw his gun down on the table and walked to the fridge, pulling out a beer.

Silence fell throughout the room. Roc sat down at the table awkwardly, taking care to set the safety on his gun. Murph stood in the corner sipping his beer and brooding. Connor crossed the space between us and pulled me into a hug.

"Sorry about that…"

I shrugged, trying hard to be indifferent about the whole thing. "It's whatever." Murph was right. We only had a weeks left until we were all leaving- They hadn't given me specifics, but they advised me to have my shit together and money for a plane ticket at the ready. _What's the point in friends?_ I pulled out of his hug and grabbed my own beer out of the fridge. "So, you gonna tell me what you boys were up to tonight?"I asked in between drinks.

"Taking out the guy who sold Rocco out." Said Connor simply, rubbing his tattooed hands over his face. He looked exhausted.

I, however, was fucking wired. "So, any other people you're going to kill between now and whenever you guys do Papa Joe?" The words tumbled out of my mouth with a reckless abandon. "Just curious is all."

"Ericka, chill the fuck out-"

"No, fuck you Murph!" I shot back heatedly. "Thought you said you guys were done!"

"Well, Rocco here shot up the fuckin' Lakeview, and now he's on vengeful quest to kill everyone connected to the mafia."

"Roc! What they fuck?"

"You guys agreed to do it!" Shouted Roc. Connor pounded his fist on the table, making everyone in the room jump. "Everyone, shut the hell up for a minute. For God's sakes, there isn't a need to be at each other throats; we're all on the same side." He sank into a chair. Murph and I sat down in between him and Roc. I stared at the table, tracing the grain pattern with my eyes while I let the tense silence wash over us.

Murph was the one to finally speak. "Alright, Roc. Is there anyone else you can think of that you want to take out? I mean, aside from Papa Joe."

Roc looked thoughtful, pensive actually. "There's this one guy that I was paid to transport back a year or two ago. Picked him and drove for an hour, and he didn't say a word the entire time. Not a throat clear, not a sigh, nothing. We get to the house, guy goes in and takes out an entire family like he's ordering a fucking pizza." He shuddered, eyes distant. "Worst night of my life, man."

Connor nodded at him. "Don't worry, Roc. You'll feel a lot better after you do him properly." He turned to me. "What bout you Ericka? Do you have anyone you want to take care of?" Murph and Roc shot a mutual 'what the fuck?' look at Connor. He waved them off and looked me in the eyes. "Well?"

I shook my head. "Aside from the guys that killed my brothers, well, I've got no one on my list. Can't really do anything about those people anyway."

Roc frowned. "Well, why the fuck not?"

"One of them is somewhere in Iraq, the other one is in prison. You do the math." I said stiffly.

Connor suddenly leaned forward, eyes burning. "You want to come with us on a job? I think you'd be great at it honestly."

"Nope."

"Ericka." He said, a note of some emotion surfacing in his voice. "We could use you when we take down Papa Joe."

"He's right." Said Murph, catching onto his logic instantly. "You know how to handle yourself with or without a gun. It's guaranteed that Papa Joe has his best guns living in his house, because he's waiting for someone to come after him."

"Not someone." Said Roc slowly, voice hoarse. "He's waiting for the Saints to come after him."

They all looked at me with different expressions. Roc's face was grim behind all the facial hair, eyes dark. Murph tapped his fingers on the table, looking wary. Conn looked the calmest of anyone in the room. His face was blank, but his eyes gave him away completely. The note in his voice had been one of desperation- He was afraid. He was asking me to me to be there. _Just in case. _I sighed as the phrase that had come to mind when Murphy pulled his stunt at the Russian bar rolled around in my head. I looked around at all of them. These three dysfunctional men had become my family; Murphy and Roc like my brothers and Connor, my lover. I thought back briefly to Erick and Phillip- my own brothers, the ones that I shared DNA with and the ones that were dead- I hadn't been around to help or save them. This time, I had a chance to do something. I felt something spark within me.

"Well?" asked Roc impatiently.

"Alright, guys." I locked eyes with Connor. "I'm in."


	17. Cautery

**Disclaimer- Don't own BDS or any part of it, yada yada**

**AN- OMG! We're getting close to the end here! Please review- it makes me write faster! :)**

**Connor POV**

Murphy was pissed. Not slightly peeved, not annoyed, not even let down. Just flat out pissed off.

"What the fuck, Ericka? You said you were in!" He threw his arms up in frustration, flinging his bag across Ericka's normally immaculate living room, which was now strewn with medical supplies, guns and ammo. Roc and I looked up from packing to watch the shouting match going on; I was thankful Ericka happened to be the sole tenant of the dilapidated apartment building- it would be hard to explain to the cops _why_ my brother and girlfriend were fighting- _"_Sorry Officer- They were fighting over whose gun was whose and it just escalated from there."

Ericka gave Murph an icy glare that would have stopped any other man- including myself- in his tracks. "Alright, fine. I'll come with you guys and leave the ER high and dry. Forget the fucking eight car pile-up on the highway , no big deal."

Murphy, however, seemed to be either immune or oblivious to her death glare. "You can always go into work when we're done with this shit." He dug through his bag, silently counting and taking inventory. Ericka narrowed her eyes at him, grabbing her coat from the hook by the door. "Won't take that long."

"Yeah, Murph. Ya know what? I'll call into work and tell them to have the patients 'hurry up and wait to die' because one of their nurses happens to be off assisting a couple vigilantes." She spat at him.

Murphy gnawed on his thumb, pacing in a circle. "You're fucking ditching us here, that's what's going on." He broke into an odd mix of Gaelic and German. Ericka put her hands on his shoulders. "Beruhige dich." Murph stopped his pacing and stared down at her. "You guys will be fine without me on this one. They won't." She looked at me meaningfully, pulling her coat on over her scrubs. "Be careful. Don't get shot." She rushed out the door, no doubt sprinting to work.

I had to admit, as Roc drove the beat up black van we had 'borrowed' to the house where our latest job was going to take place, it was pretty good advice to keep in mind_. Goal of the day: Do not get shot, stabbed or otherwise wounded. _

We parked down the street from the house, and after seeing a kid leave the garage on a bike, we moved quickly into the garage, shutting the door and letting Roc lead us to where we needed to go. Everything ran in a blur for a while. I didn't pay much attention as we snuck around, as we forced the woman of the household to punch in a security code and then proceeded to taze her, as we waited with baited breath for them to open the door for us to let us in, as Roc looked around the room full of criminals and uttered the words, "All of them." I was shooting, Murphy was shooting, Rocco was shooting- it didn't phase me much, as if pumping lead into people was a mundane day to day activity, like taking out the trash.

As soon as every man in the room was down , we dropped our bags and started pulling out pennies to place over the eyes of every dead man. Rocco started to flip a shit. "Shit! Shit! He ain't here!"

"What the fuck you mean he's not here?" barked Murphy.

"He's not here!"

"Well look again for fuck sakes!" I snarled.

"I know what the fuck he looks like!" shouted Roc. The door opened behind him.

"Behind you!" Roc jumped and aimed his gun at the man behind him. The man, from what I could tell was a short and creepy looking motherfucker- rose tinted shades and all. Roc fired his gun at the guy, but apparently he had thought ahead, padding his stomach and chest with a towel from the bathroom and wielding a metal something; The guy was definitely a professional killer.

"Oh shit!" Yelled Roc and he ran across the room. The guy with the shades jumped on Rocco's back. "Shoot this motherfucker!"

Murphy ran after and tried tugging the guy off of Rocco. _Fucking hell. _I grabbed Murph by his shoulders and pulled him away from the grabbling men. He yelled obscenities as he fought to get out of my grasp. "No!" I yelled at him. "Fucking let 'em go!" I looked to Roc, who was wrestling the man. "Now's your fucking chance to earn your stripes!"

Murph gestured at them. "What- are you fucking kidding me?"

I pushed him back. "It was your idea to bring him in!" Murph yelled words of encouragement to Roc, though I was still holding him back. "Now's your fucking chance, man!" I caught something moving out of the corner of my eye. I let go of Murph and grabbed a gun, going over to the corner where a man was moaning in pain. He stared at me with wide, cloudy eyes. I tried to ignore the look on his face as I pulled the trigger, the bullet that landed in his head finally ending his life. I caught the bullet case in the air and crossed myself, saying a silent prayer for the man's soul. I turned back to the fight behind me with our mantra of _evil men, dead men _playing through my head.

Murph rolled a cue ball across the floor to Roc. He grabbed for it and then he finally got the upper hand. He hit the guy in the face with the cue ball over and over, rising from the ground and throwing the man onto the couch. "Sick fuck! Sick! Fuck!" He yelled. Murph and I watched as he beat the guy to a bloody pulp. Roc got up and lunged at me. "Good job, you did good-"

"AH, fuck you!" he screamed, swinging at me. I stepped out of the way and pushed him onto the pool table, waiting for the adrenaline to leave his system. "Taking a fucking deep breath there, Roc." I grabbed his chin and held it firmly in place. "You did good, it was nicely done." He was still bugging out on me hardcore. I put my gloved hand over his mouth and kissed it, then promptly walked away to tend to the dead, figuring that I had finally gotten my point across. Roc layed across the pool table while Murph and I placed pennies and prayed, panting heavily, but at he had finally calmed down.

As we packed up our gear, Murph turned to me. "D'ya think I was too hard on Ericka?" He asked, chewing his lip. I shook my head. "Maybe a bit irrational on your part, but I'm a bit miffed she wasn't here." I admitted.

Roc stood over us, bag slung over his shoulder, shades already in places. "Ericka wouldn't leave us high and dry- she knew we'd be fine. Don't get your panties in a twist, jesus." He looked around at the dead bodies in the room. "I need a beer after this shit." He muttered. Murph flung an arm around his shoulder. "You said it, man."

We stepped out of the large and neat white house into a typical suburbian neighborhood. The sun was bright and it was unusually warm- it seemed weird to me that we had just killed several people and yet the weather was gorgeous. It seemed so contradictory.

Roc stopped in his tracks. I looked up and saw a man in all black, aiming two guns at us and smoking a cigar. _What the fuck? _Murph and I both pulled out our guns and took aim over Roc's shoulders. The man quirked the side of his mouth up at us, sunglasses reflecting the light. I frowned , losing focus for a split second. I could have sworn I had seen that exact same smirk before- corners of a mouth perking up around a cigarette. Why this detail was so important, I had no idea, but it cost me dearly.

The man started firing first. We shot back, trying desperately hard to hit the guy. Roc looked dazed as he sunk to his knees and fumbled around for his gun, finally getting it out of his jeans. Shots rang loud; panes of glass broke in cars as our bullets hit them instead of our moving target. The man in the black coat dropped his guns and then pulled out two more from his coat, resuming his fire.

Roc screamed in agony and dove into the bushes next to us. "Son of a bitch! Fuck!" Rocco had been hit; I prayed that it wasn't life threatening. Murph and I kept firing at the fucker in front of us; somehow he managed to avoid our fire. Murph ducked into the other set of bushes, yelling in tongues; He was hit as well. I kept shooting at the man, trying to hit him before I ran out of ammo. I tried to calculate how much I had left, but I honestly had no fucking clue, and I didn't really care after I felt a hot piece of lead tear into my thigh. "Fuck!" I grabbed at my leg and kept firing blindly. Finally, one of us- I'm not sure who- hit him with a bullet. He grabbed at his arm and then simply walked away, like he was bored. As much as I wanted to follow behind him, the pain in my leg and the shouts from Murph and Roc reminded me that we had to bail.

"Murph! Ya alright?"

"Argh! Motherfucker!" was the reply I got as he kept shooting after him. I looked around for Roc. "Roc! Get the bag! Get the fucking blood!" I added as I looked at the column and door that was splattered with blood.

"The fuck was that?" screamed Murph, pulling out a can of ammonia and spraying down the door.

"Get the fucking blood!" I repeated, frantically spraying every drop of blood I could see. If the cops collected any DNA from any of us, we would be so incredibly fucked.

"He shot off my fucking finger!" wailed Roc, holding up a bloody hand that was wrapped in his t-shirt. Under normal circumstances, I would have cringed and felt some empathy. However this was not normal fucking circumstances- somebody was sent after us.

Somebody wanted us dead.

"Roc! Fucking go!"

"What the fuck? Fuck! Roc grab the fucking bag!"

"Fuck! My fucking finger-"

"Fucking shit!"

We all sprinted to the van, ignoring pains and trying to hightail it the fuck out of there before the cops showed up. Murphy drove the van, taking the roads at speeds that were well above the legal limit. None of us spoke the whole ride back to Ericka's place. I wasn't keen on the idea of going there in case someone followed us, but we didn't have much choice.

We limped into the apartment, blood dripping onto the floor from all of our wounds. I threw my shit down and let the fear, adrenaline and pain wash over me. "Who the fuck was he, Roc? I know you know, so don't even start!"

"Oh fuck you!" he yelled, leaning over the sink. "I told you I never saw him before!"

"Well he sure as fuck knew you!" Murph looked as if he wanted dearly to clock him in the face.

"Fuck you! Fuck you both!" voices started to overlap.

"Fucking amateur-"

"-Lost my finger-"

"What the fuck!"

"Everyone shut the fuck up!" Murph ran around furiously, looking for something. "Shit!" he swore loudly. He grabbed an iron from the kitchen table that was amid a pile of laundry. I vaguely wondered if it was the same one from Rocco's apartment. He slammed it down on the stove and cranked up the heat on the burner.

"The fuck you doing?" asked Roc, looking suddenly horrified. Murph grimaced. "There aren't enough stitches for all of us, and I don't think we have much time. We've all lost a lot of fucking blood, and we need to seal the wounds."

"Oh fuck…" Roc sank down into a chair, cradling his hand. Murph stared down at him, face stern. "It's the only thing we really have at this point. I thought Ericka restocked our supplies after my shit, but I guess not." He turned to me after putting a tea kettle on another burner. "Better get these bullets out while we're waiting." He pulled a pair of long surgical steel tweezers from a bag. I sat down in another chair and allowed Murph to fish around in the hole in my leg. It hurt, bad. A groan left me as he pulled out the bullet, tossing it onto the counter. He gave me a gauze pad that was soaked with rubbing alcohol, gesturing for me wipe off the blood and clean around the wound.

He wiped off the tweezers and after pouring more alcohol and boiling water onto them, handed them to me, sitting down in his own chair. He nodded and grimaced at me. Carefully, I reached forward and removed the bandage from his upper arm, blood oozing out of them. It took me a while to find the lead ball wedged in his arm; several times I had to stop as he tensed up in pain from me accidentally hitting a muscle or nerve. Eventually I got it out and threw the tweezers in the sink, never wanting to touch them again.

At this point, the iron was white hot. Murph looked around at us, face white. "Do me first." He said. After three failed attempts, we pushed everything off the kitchen table and forced him to lay belly down ontop of it. Roc held him down and held onto the gag in his mouth as I pressed the iron to his already burnt skin. It was ten seconds of horror; he moaned and gripped the corner of the table with his free hand, shaking and grunting in pain. The smell was the worst part- burning flesh mixing with blood, sweat and rubbing alcohol.

After we wiped off the iron, we moved to Rocco's hand. Murphy applied the iron carefully this time while I held onto the gag. He bucked against the pain, not even attempting to stay still, though he somehow managed to keep his hand still so we wouldn't have to apply the iron again. Murph took extra care to put burn cream and bandages after the fact, attempting to offer some relief from the pain, though judging by the fact Roc immediately grabbed a bottle of whisky out of the freezer and took a long drink straight from the bottle, the attempt was futile.

Then it was my turn. I put the cloth that was our gag in my mouth and bit down har. I felt Murph pulling on it from behind me. I nodded at Roc and he placed the very tip of the iron on my leg. Holy hell, did it fucking hurt. I reached behind me and grabbed Murphy's hair, the only thing within reach that I could grip onto. Ten seconds lasted a lifetime- I tried to focus on something, anything to dull the pain. The time when Murphy and I broke a window in our church playing soccer in the pews came to mind. Then it was over and I stood up shakily, limping over to the living room couch, desperate to sink into the cushions. Roc and Murphy weren't far behind me. They plopped down next to me; Roc handed me the bottle of whisky, frowning at his bandaged hand. "Still feels like it's there." He said.

I snorted, taking my own drink from the bottle and enjoying the sudden warmth it brought to my belly. "Yeah, well….it's not."

**Ericka POV**

"Here ya go, one large black coffee with three shots of espresso." Annie plopped a huge steaming cup and a brown bag in front of me. I grabbed for the coffee and took a large gulp, choking as the hot liquid hit my throat. Annie shook her head at me. "It's called hot coffee for a reason."

"Ah, shut up." I coughed, wiping my mouth with the back of my head. I reached for the brown bag and pulled out a bagel, munching on it hungrily. "Thank you sooo much. I needed this." Annie thankfully hadn't mentioned the night at my apartment when Roc and the twins had guns drawn and pointed at her- aside from asking about Murphy, she acted completely normal. I think it was a case of 'don't ask, don't tell,' and that suited me just fine.

Annie shrugged. "It's nothing. You looked a bit off color earlier." I nodded, unable to speak due to the sheer amount of bagel in my mouth. I was sure I looked pretty gross, but hunger compelled me to eat like a starved dog. "Might wanna slow down there, might throw up again." She was, or course, referring to earlier in the morning when I had to duck into the bathroom for twenty minutes while I barfed up stomach acid.

"I'm fucking hungry!" I said between bites. Annie tilted her head. "You didn't make your normal coffee run this morning?"

I shook my head. "No time."

She rolled her eyes at me. "Any idea why you blew chunks earlier? You've never been bad with blood." I shrugged. "Nerves?" Between not being able to be with the boys on their latest job and the sheer chaos the ER had been in when I showed up, my nerves had been shot completely. I raised my eyebrows at her. "Why are you so fixated on that?"

Annie took a sip of her own drink. "I dunno. Figured you might be knocked or something"

I choked on my coffee again. "WHAT?"

"Well, it makes sense, doesn't it? Morning sickness, you've been eating like a horse lately, and, I hope you don't take offense to this, but you look like you've gained weight right around the middle. Oh, and you mentioned that were late this month."

I stared at her. "You're full of shit."

She waved her hands at me. "Maybe, but it couldn't hurt to take a pregnancy test. Probably stress anyways." I shook my head at her and walked off to do my rounds.

But as I walked home after my shift, her words resonated in my head. I ducked into a twenty-four seven drugstore and wandered around until I found the aisle with pregnancy tests. I furrowed my brow as I stared at the shelves. _Why are there so many to pick from? _After looking for a solid ten minutes, I grabbed three different ones and walked to the checkout. The bearded cashier gave me a strange look. I laughed sheepishly. "Just want to be sure." I explained. He handed me my change, looking seriously weirded out.

I walked home at a frantic pace, wanting nothing more than to see that the boys were alright and to take the damn pregnancy tests to dispel Annie's twisted notions that I was indeed preggo. I opened the door to the apartment to the rather disturbing scene of my laundry basket full of clothes knocked over onto the floor, and a bloody iron on the table. My stomach rolled. I stepped into the living room and saw the boys staring at the TV, watching a news broadcast. "We are confident that we will apprehend the people responsible for this." Said a snarky looking man. I did a double take- he looked familiar, but I couldn't place the face for anything.

"That's the guy that got us off the hook for the Chekov thing." Said Murph. Roc looked furious, even from his profile. "Then that makes him a lia-fuckin-bility."

"He's a good man. He's not too be touched." Said Connor, the tone of his voice stern. Roc took a sip from a bottle. "Whatever."

"Jesus Christ, I just bought that bottle Roc!" They all turned to look me. I noticed the bandage on Murph's arm. "What happened?"

"Well, some guy showed up after we killed people, shot me in the arm, Conn in the leg, and-"

"The fucker shot off my goddamned finger." Roc held a heavily bandaged hand up. I felt my head swim a little. "You…. You cauterized your wounds…with an iron?" Murph nodded at me. "Didn't have the time for stitches. And I don't think we had enough thread for them, in any case." He looked at me concernedly. "Ya alright there?"

I shook my head and ran to the bathroom to puke up my coffee and bagel. I felt someone beside me, holding my hair back for me. "It's alright love. Everything's alright." Came Connor's soothing voice. I surfaced from the toilet bowl, gasping. "Ericka, aingeal, don't cry now, don't cry." He said, wiping tears from my cheeks.

"No, no. It's not all okay. You guys got hurt and I wasn't there…" my voice trailed off and I scolded myself. _Pull yourself together, for God sakes. _

There was a light knock on the door. Murph stepped in and set a plastic bag on the sink. "You dropped that…" he mumbled, rushing out. Connor reached up and made to peek in the bag. I grabbed his arm. "No… don't look in there."

"Why not?" he frowned at me.

I looked at him hopelessly. "Connor. I think I might be pregnant."

His face was blank. "What?"

"I might be pregnant." I pointed to the bag. "Those are pregnancy tests. Um…." I watched his face go from blank to ecstatic. "You're telling me… I might be a dad?" I nodded. He laughed loudly. "Shit…. I thought it might be something awful."

"Awful?" I repeated. "I don't want to be a mother! This IS awful!" Connor took my face in his hands.

"Calma mo aingeal. We don't even know if you are, so just take a test and see if there's reason to worry." I had to admit he was right. Ten minutes later we found ourselves staring at the plastic stick I had pissed on, waiting for a result.

"How long does it take?" he asked.

"Box said fifteen minutes." I replied anxiously.

"The fuck is going on in here?" asked Murph, muscling his way into the bathroom. He looked at the plastic stick. "You're not….?" He asked.

"I don't know yet." I said numbly. Rocco appeared around the corner. "The fuck you guys doing?"

"Ericka might be knocked up." Said Murph bluntly. Roc's jaw dropped. "Holy shit. Holy shit, serious?"

"Hey there's something there!" Connor nearly shouted. All four of us crowded around the stick that was sitting on the counter. Two faint pink dots appeared. "What does that mean?" asked Murph. Connor fumbled with the box. "That means….. negative." He said, sounding disappointed. The rest of us breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Thank God." I muttered. I grabbed the bottle of booze out of Roc's hand and took a long drink, handing it back to him when I was finished. I squeezed my way out of the bathroom and went to my room, collapsing on the bed. Connor came in after me, shutting the door. He curled up next to me, pulling me to his chest.

"I know you're disappointed."I said.

He kissed my cheek. "A little. But I suppose it'll happen eventually." He smiled. "No rush."

I rolled onto my back. "What makes you so sure?"

"Got a good feeling about it. Ya know, I've always wanted kids. Big house with a yard, couple dogs, beautiful wife. What can I say? I'm a traditional man."

"That's great and all, but," I said, a smirk pulling at my lips. "Who wants to put up with your sorry ass?"

His face turned serious as he propped himself on an elbow. He started to talk rapidly. "Look, I know life with me isn't normal, and I'm sorry, and I know you plan on coming back to Ireland with us but that's just not enough for me and I've been meaning to ask you but the timing never seemed right and-." He looked at me with burning eyes and took a deep breath. "Marry me?"

I felt my mouth open and close several times, utterly lost for words. Following impulse, I pulled him down on top of me and kissed him with as much passion as I could muster. We broke apart and I grinned up at him. "Yes, ya fucking twit.. I'll marry you."


	18. Ethics

**Disclaimer here=lkandlkkdnfdlkfndfhaldjs'[lopa;**

**AN- First off, HOLY CRAP this took forever to write. There were so many ideas i had involving plot that it took a while to narrow it down. And apologies if this chapter is hard to choke down, but i felt i couldn't break it all up- it made more sense to have it all at once...anyway, i'll shut up here and let you guys read. **

**Oh, and is anyone else watching The Walking Dead? Holy shit, it's such a good show. **

**Murphy POV**

I woke out of dead sleep to the sounds of someone vomiting violently in the bathroom. The clock read 10pm. Groggily, I got up from the couch and went to investigate, and possibly hold hair back if it was who I thought. Sure enough, it was Ericka slumped over the toilet. Again.

"Ya know, you're obscenely loud when you puke." I muttered. She looked up, sweat shining on her forehead. "Sorry, Murph." She panted. "I'll make sure to vomit quieter next time."

And then she was face first in the toilet again, coughing up the lasagna Roc had made earlier. I sat down on the floor next to her, holding her lion's mane of hair back, wishing that Connor had been the one here to do this. However, Connor was off helping Roc sort through his old apartment, trying to find anything useful towards Roc's effort of getting out of Boston and forming some semblance of a life elsewhere. I felt a pang of sadness as I remembered that Rocco wouldn't be coming with us. It was for the best though; Roc thrived on the chaos and clutter of city life. If he actually got his act together and stayed out of trouble, New York City would be perfect for him. Connor and I just couldn't function the same way anymore, not after playing God. Our escape would be found in the green fields of home.

Ericka surfaced again, waving me off of her. She leaned back against the wall, the lighting of the bathroom bringing out the dark circles under her eyes and the pale pallor of her skin. She was the very embodiment of the phrase 'death warmed over.'

"Thanks." She mumbled, pulling her hair back with a likewise pale hand.

"Sure you're not pregnant?" I asked. She shook her head. "No… just the stomach flu. Or food poisoning. Roc is a piss poor excuse for an Italian, he can't cook for shit." She laughed weakly before falling silent.

"Where's Conn?"

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Over at Roc's, cleaning out his place. You asked this the last time you woke up and started puking, which was about an hour ago."

"Oh. Why aren't you over there with them?"

"Pretty simple, actually. Connor knows what buttons to push on Roc to get 'em to listen, or as much as he listens to anyone anyways. And someone has to stay here. You know, make sure you don't drown in the toilet bowl." She gave me a half smirk of amusement- I doubt she could've managed more than that.

"Hey, remind me in the morning… I need to go to church tomorrow."

"Uh… why? You're sicker than a dog. Ya shouldn't be going anywhere."

"Bad dreams, Murph. They're like bad omens. Ever hear that?" She asked, shutting her eyes tightly.

"Nope."

"My brother used to say that to me all the time. I go to church every time I have a nightmare, maybe exchange my bad karma for good. However that works." She said vaguely, attempting to stand up, but stopping when her knees began to shake. I stood and picked her up, carrying her out to the couch. She didn't even try to fight me, just laid there limp in my arms. Her lack of a fight concerned me a little. _She must be feeling pretty awful._

I sat down next to her, giving her the blanket I had been using. She latched onto it, staring at the wall, eyes glassy from apparent pain. I reached out and felt her forehead with the back of my hand; she was burning up. I got her a glass of tap water; she took a couple feverish sips before pushing it away. I thought about dragging her to the hospital myself, but with all the sudden heat on us, leaving the apartment seemed like a bad thing to do. The only option was to keep her talking until Connor showed back up or until she passed out- whichever came first.

"So… what was this bad dream you've had?"

She blinked a few times before answering. "I dreamt that you three were tied up somewhere, being beaten to death and all I could was watch." Her voice was terrifyingly quiet and faint; It seemed to take her an immense effort to speak. "I couldn't help because there was a pane of glass separating us." She swallowed hard. "Nice change of pace from the usual, I will say that much….hey,Murphy?"

I looked over at her. "Yeah, Ericka?"

"Are you guys really going to be done after you go home?" I didn't need to ask what she meant by 'done.'

"Yeah…of course."

She smiled serenely. "That's…. good." She said before slipping into a coma-like sleep.

I curled up in a ball at the end of the couch, not having the energy to move. Ericka's question hit me hard, probably because she had voiced aloud my own doubts. _Are we really going to be done? Are we really going to throw away our guns and ignore our calling from God? _I felt the other side of me argue back. _You've killed enough evil people. You've answered your calling to the fullest extent of your abilities. What more could God want from you? _

"Murphy?" I felt myself being shaken awake by a bright eyed and wide awake Connor. "C'mon, get your arse up."

"What time is it?" I groaned. I hadn't even realized I had fallen asleep. I sure as hell didn't feel like I had.

"Nine-ish."

"Oh, what the hell Connor? Let me fuckin' sleep."

"Nope. Church. Let's go. _Aller_!" He said, breaking into French. Connor could never quite get the hang of French phonetics, thus causing him to speak the flowing language with a weird lilt. It was irritating to me, and he knew it too.

"Fine, fine. I'm getting up, just stop talking in that language."

"_Warum?" _He asked, switching to German.

"Weil, Sie klingen verzögert." _Because. You sound retarded. _

He rolled his eyes at me. "C'mon. Let's go. Roc's already in the car."

Roc looked as thrilled as I did to be awake "Fuckin' shit, Conn. This couldn't wait until later? Really?"

"Hey, where's Ericka?" I asked, suddenly remembering her. "She said she needed to go."

"At work, apparently." He scowled.

"Oi! What the hell? You actually let her-" He raised a fist threateningly and I closed my mouth. "Save it. She wouldn't listen to me."

I shook my head at Ericka's stubbornness. "Hasn't been able to keep food down for two days, but is going to go to work anyways. To work with other sick people. Friggen twit_." _Connor nodded his head in silent agreement. With any luck, somebody on staff would notice how awful she looked and force her to go home. Or force feed her some meds. Either way, the girl needed an intervention before she keeled over and died.

Roc pulled up to the curb outside of the massive stone building. He called out to me as Connor and I walked away from the car. "Hey, Murph! Look, this early morning church shit has gotta go."

"Have to go in the morning. Keep up appearances, ya know?" Roc grumbled and went to park the car. I followed Connor into the church and sat down in a pew in the back, keeping my head down. I felt Connor sit down beside me and immediately start praying in Gaelic. I half listened to him, attempting to collect my own thoughts, which were hazy at best.

At this point in time, we were supposed to be home, in Ireland with everything put behind us. Instead, we were a month and half past when we had planned to pop Papa Joe(due to recovering from gunshots wounds), and were running out of time to make our move. Hiding out in Ericka's apartment was starting to take its toll; we were all at our breaking point as far as sharing living space was concerned. And, after the appearance of the bearded guy with six guns at our last job, there was a good chance someone was following us.

_What we need is a plan. A real plan- not some scheme taken from movies or one made up on the spot- a real solid fucking plan with every variable thought of beforehand. Too much to ask?_

I felt Connor stir next to me, rising from the pews. His footfalls sounded bouncy against the thick carpet in the aisles. Connor always seemed lighter, less burdened after we spent time in a church. He had always been a big believer in the power of prayer. Me? Not so much. I took time to pray or course, but when things got rough, my faith tended to wane until I could I fix the problem myself.

Maybe that was the problem. Just a straight up lack of faith.

I bowed my head and started to pray feverishly, holding onto my rosary so tightly, the wooden edges cut deep into my palm.

_God… you brought us into this mess, now please…..get us out of it alive. _

**Connor POV**

I was going to kill Rocco.

_What in the fuck is he thinking, ambushing a fucking priest?_I peered through the mesh wire window of the confessional booth, looking at the back of Rocco's head as he pressed a gun to the small of the priest's back.

"Sorry you're gonna have to see this." Whispered Roc.

"I didn't see anything!"

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" I stuck a finger through the mesh, trying to poke at Roc.

"Don't do this my son." Said the priest, breathing heavily. "Don't you have any fear of God?"

"That's who I'm doing this for, now open the- I'll fucking do you right here!"

"God, oh God… have mercy on my soul."

Too far. Roc had taken this too fucking far. Right as the priest opened up the confessional window, I punched through the wire, pulling Roc's head into my booth.

"Let 'em fucking go or I'll kill you right now!"

"Okay, just calm down! He could hurt us! He could ruin the whole thing!" That was the least of my worries at the moment- jumping a priest for whatever reason- in a house of God of all places- was not cool with me.

I pulled harder on his hair, hoping to get my point across. "Listen. You let him fucking go or I'll deliver you right fucking here!"

"No, Connor you won't! You love me man-"

"Hello?" came a fourth slurred and slightly drunk sounding voice, silencing us immediately. "You there?"

"Y-yes, my son." Said the terrified sounding priest from the other booth.

Roc growled at the priest. "Don't fuck this up, Father. Just do your thing, alright?"

I heard him take a deep breath before talking to the tormented soul the next booth over. "How long since your last confession?"

"Oh Christ...I've never confessed." The tone of his voice became much clearer. I…come here for advice. Not….slawlvation."

_How fucking drunk is this guy, holy shit…._

"Why have you come to a church for counsel if you're not religious?" Father failed to disguise the irritation in his voice- though I suppose having a hairy Italian guy holding a gun to his his head might have had something to do with it.

"It's…ethics. I put evil men behind bars….but the law has miles of red tape and loopholes for these cocksuckers to slip through." I felt my eyes widen in comprehension. Roc hadn't jumped a priest randomly…. That was fucking Agent Paul Smecker in confessional…the very man who was tracking our movements and investigating the deaths of the white collar criminals we had killed since that fateful St Patty's day.

"I found these two guys that are fixing the situation with an iron fist, as if they had God's permission to do so."

My stomach sank. He knew we were the Saints. He had somehow pieced it all together and figured out who we were….and yet, somehow he was feeling conflicted about the whole thing? It didn't make sense to me.

Father scoffed at him. "God's permission? God doesn't grant-" Roc should Father's shoulder roughly, silencing him long enough for Smecker to start rambling again.

"In this day and age…. I believe what they do is necessary. I feel it is correct." It struck me how truly articulate and intelligent Smecker really was- drunk at nine in the morning, but still somewhat put together mentally. I had to applaud that aspect of his character- man was sharper then a tack.

"It is the spirit that gives us feelings." Father spoke slowly. "It's like a conduit through which the Lord speaks to us. You felt your answers would be here in the house of the Lord today. And you feel these men are necessary. So… the Lord has spoken to you twice today."

"Has he now?" I could practically hear the raised eyebrow in his tone.

"You were the one who came into this church speaking of beliefs and feelings. Is it so hard to believe that God has brought you here?" Father shot back at him.

"I guess not."

"It's very easy to be sarcastic about religion. It's much more difficult to take a stand for what you believe in." it sounded like it hurt for father to say those words. Roc and I strained our ears to listen, hardly breathing for fear of missing something.

"I want to stand for what I believe, Father…"

"First you got to know what your beliefs are."

"I believe that these young men are right." I couldn't believe my own ears.

"You know them personally?"

"Yes.

"Would they ever harm an innocent person for any reason?"

"No! They would never do that. Well," he amended. "The two Irish guys wouldn't. The Italian guy, he might, he's kind of an idiot." At that, Roc tried to get away but I pulled him back further, still straining to hear the conversation.

"I'm beginning to see… all of the things I wish I could do…these guys are doing. Wha…what should I do?" he asked hopelessly. "Because I _am_ a man who is supposed to uphold the law."

Father seemed to be choking on his own words. "The laws of God…. are higher than the laws of man."

"Yes! Yes! I was thinking that too. No- I was _feeling_ it." Said Smecker, sounding completely sober, sarcasm leaking though. "All I needed was to hear you say it!" there was a tense pause before he muttered. "Amen. I will help them."

Father looked to the heavens. "Father forgive me…."

"Thank you, Father." Came Smecker's voice. There was a loud thud; I suspected he had attempted to cross himself and elbow hit the side of the booth. "Whatever. Amen. Goodbye. " After I heard Smecker climb out and walk away I pushed Roc roughly through the wire netting and leaving the booth, slamming the wooden door behind me.

I was livid. I was going to kill Roc- not just for assaulting a priest in a church, but for going after Smecker _after_ we told him not too. The silver lining though- we had an ally. And something told me with this last job of ours, well, we could use another one of those. I glanced back at Murphy and Roc, still slightly glowering at the latter. Roc threw an arm around Murph's shoulder, chuckling to himself. "The Lord works in mysterious ways." He grinned.

Murph looked at him like he had lost his goddamned mind, oblivious to what had just occurred in confessional. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

**Ericka POV**

"That means you _really _should not be here right now, Sug." Annie stared at me. "Seriously, Ericka. Go home. Take a couple days off, you need it."

I shook my head. "No really I'm fine!" I lied. My voice gave me away as it cracked. Annie rolled her eyes at me, consulting the thermometer that had just been in my mouth.

"You're running a fever of a hundred and two. You are going to go home and you will stay there until you are fully recovered. No coming into work, no working out- hell, no sex until you are better. Do I make myself clear?" She punctuated every word in the last sentence. I wasn't about to argue with the southern belle. She was like a Rottweiler- cute and cuddly until you pissed it off, and then it was liable to gnaw your arm off.

My head swam a little as I stood up from the chair I had been sitting in. "Yes, Annie."

She smiled at me, back to her sweeter-than-punch self. "Good. Oh, and by the way, Connor is waiting for you out in the lobby. Now get the hell out of here."

I did as I was told, practically falling into Connor's arms as soon as I saw him. "Babe. I think I have a problem." I moaned into his coat. "I think I actually caught the flu."

He chuckled. "You're human. Happens to the best of us."His arms suddenly tightened around me.

Instinctively, I knew something was off. It was all in the way he held me. His grip was too tight and the embrace lasted a few seconds longer than it should have. I looked up at him and saw how dark his eyes were.

_A storm is coming in._

We walked home in complete silence, knowing we couldn't talk until we were someplace safe, where people couldn't overhear. It was a cold Boston day, but the sun was out, shining brightly. My head throbbed painfully when the light reflected off of cars and into my eyes. Connor handed me a pair of sunglasses when he noticed me walking with my hand over my face. I recognized them as Murphy's- they had slightly bent frames and the ends had been chewed on. I slipped them on, wondering why Connor had his brother's shades with him. _Where the hell is Murph? Are they expecting something to happen? _

The definite answer turned out to be a yes.

"Smecker is on our side." Announced Roc as soon as I walked in the door. I shrugged off my coat and shoes, sinking wearily into the couch.

"The fed?" I asked. Connor nodded, looking like he really wanted to slap Rocco upside the head. "How'd you-"

"Long story, we'll fill you in later." He sighed. "Look, Ericka…." He looked around before speaking. "We're looking to hit Papa Joe tonight

"Tonight?" I repeated in shock. _Well that was unexpected_.

"Yeah, we just talked told Smecker. He ran through a couple data bases and found the guy that got us- the bearded geriatric one with six guns." As if he could be more specific- not too many old guys were hardcore gunslingers. "Nothing is known about him aside from the fact he's been paroled out and then placed back in prison two or three times in the last twenty five or so years."

"Which means he's somebody's weapon and errand boy." I muttered, filling in the blanks.

"Which also means he's been tracking us. I guarantee it." Murph chewed on his thumb, hardly containing himself. He reminded me of a lab rat- one that had been fed a huge dose of crack. "We really haven't the time to wait. If this guy is coming for us, he's coming soon. No sense in making ourselves sitting ducks."

I nodded. "Alright, so what's the plan?"

Connor stared down at me. "As far as you're concerned there is no plan."

"Excuse me?" I shot at him.

"You're not coming with us. You can't handle it with the fucking state you've been in that last few days-"

"Oh fuck you, Connor!" I made to punch him, but Murph grabbed my arm, pushing me into the couch forcefully and pushing Connor back with his other hand.

"Calm down, okay? Look, he's got a point. You seem fine now, but you were looking fucking awful last night. The stress might set you off all over again."

"No it won't." I said simply. "I'm coming with. _You _were the one who asked me to come with y'all on this job. I will not back out because I'm not feeling a little under the weather."

"Under the weather? Under the fucking weather?" Murphy interrupted me. "You spent most of last night throwing up, I think that's a little more than under the weather!"

I ignored him, standing up on suddenly unsteady legs and looking Connor dead in the eyes. "And ya know what?" my rant picked up speed, like a car travelling down a huge hill. Or rather, like a car travelling down a gravel road and eighty miles an hour, like the time Eric and I 'borrowed' our dad's truck to go to a concert in a town three hours away. That was one horrific crash and it was a miracle we had made it out without a scratch. At the time, I felt the wreck coming but couldn't stop it. Now it was the same thing-I felt the impending crash coming, but that couldn't stop a damn thing. I just had to roll with the words coming out of my mouth and deal with the consequences later. "If I'm supposed to just up and leave behind my entire life to go all the way across the goddamned Atlantic with you, then I might as well as have a hand in it."

And then the angry ,tough and violent me was gone, like something had sapped away all my energy. I sat down onto the couch and let my head spin a little, trying to keep talking, to make them understand. "Look, I couldn't live with myself if something happened to any of you, and that's the honest to God truth. I love all of you too damn much…." I felt something hot roll down my cheeks. I was crying. I wiped away my tears with a shaking hand, trying hard to not lose my head completely.

I felt Connor sit down next to me and pull me against him, stroking my hair. Murph sat down next to us, taking a hold of the hand that wasn't in Connor's. Rocco lingered somewhere in the background, watching nervously, afraid of intruding.

I felt so damn weak- both physically and emotionally. Before I met Connor, I never cried, never doubted myself or my decisions- I was a perfect pillar of strength. And then something happened somewhere and I was turned into an emotional moody mess, one that couldn't even function properly in the past month or so. But still, moody or not, I wanted to be there with them, and they couldn't stop me. It was a case of ethics- sometime even Saints need a guardian angel on their side.

"Ericka." Came Connor's voice. "Nothing is going to happen, alright? We're gonna be fine."

"Wish I could believe that." I muttered. A saw Murphy glance at Connor and give the slightest of nods. He walked out of the room, footsteps heavy. By now, I could tell which brother was in the room by the sound of their footsteps. Murphy had heavy footfalls, and they were hardly ever in a steady rhythm. Connor's were lighter, consistent, like he always had a purpose for being wherever he was at that moment.

Connor kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes for a brief moment and then opened them. He was staring at me as intensely as the night in the alleyway. _Don't want to forget your face,_ he had said. I felt a sudden wave of panic flood me. That was exactly what he was doing – memorizing details- _just in case_ something happened to him. It wasn't a just in case thing- he was fully expected something to go wrong. That was why he didn't want me there.

"Connor…" He silenced my protests with a kiss, slow and sweet. My heart felt like it wanted to fall right out of my chest. _No. No, no, no. This isn't happening like this. _

Murph appeared at my side again, holding a couple pills and a glass of water. "Here, take these." He said.

I looked at him suspiciously. "What are they?"

"Just some off brand Tylenol. It'll help your fever. C'mon, humor me here." His face was innocent. I could trust him- I could trust any of them, that much I knew. So I sat fully up and took them, draining the entire glass of water. He took my glass back to the kitchen, leaving me with Connor. He pulled me back down to his chest, holding me close. He was warm, like my own personal furnace. He smelled faintly of cigarettes and his cologne, a warm musky scent; It was comforting.

I felt my eyes grow heavy; I closed them and felt myself slipping under. As I felt Connor gently laid me down on the couch, something clicked far too late for my liking.

_Off brand Tylenol my ass. They are so dead. _

I fought hard against the impending darkness tugging at my eyelids. I heard the sounds of metal clanking against metal, bags zipping shut; the air smelled of cigarettes- they were chain smoking, no doubt.

The last sounds I caught before I finally gave into whatever drug was in my system were the voices of my Saints.

"Ericka is going to kill us when we get back…. You do realize that?"

I heard a faint chuckle. "Yeah….I'm counting on it."


	19. Idea

Usual Disclaimers here:

**Rocco POV**

I leaned against the kitchen counter, watching the twins move around franticly as they debated over what to take with us.

"We don't need your fucking rope, Connor!" Murphy yelled. Connor opened his mouth to argue back, but promptly his mouth as a small moan came from the couch in the living room. He rushed over to check on Ericka, who had been passed out for some time now. Murphy looked guiltier than hell- it had been his idea to drug her.

"What'd you give her?" I asked, speaking for the first time in what felt like hours.

"Hydrocodone." His voice was low. "Same shit she gave me a while back, with the whole Russian thing. Knocked me out right away." He cringed at the memory, like he was still physically hurt from the ordeal. "I gave her a small dose, but I don't know if it's enough to keep her asleep for very long."

"Let's hope so. I don't want to be around when she comes to. She's gonna fucking kill you two." Murph shrugged a shoulder in acknowledgement. Personally, I was stunned that they had the balls to drug her- I had grabbled with Ericka once when we were all too drunk to know better, and let me tell you, she had a killer left hook. My jaw hurt for weeks after. I didn't know too many guys, let alone chicks, that could punch like that.

I paced anxiously around the kitchen, lighting up yet another cigarette. _I'd kill for a shot of anything right now._ My eyes fell on the bottle of whiskey on the counter; I forced myself to walk away from it. I didn't want to walk into Papa Joe's place half wasted and then get, well, wasted by a Tommy gun. Actually, I didn't know if anyone in the mafia still used Tommy guns anymore, but it was the image that popped into my head- some guy in a fedora pumping me full of lead using a Tommy.

_Eighteen fucking years in the mob, and you don't even know what kinds of guns they use. Pathetic. No wonder you were a package runner the entire time, eh, Funny Man? Eighteen years of service to be used as a scapegoat at the right time- how fucking_ _perfecto. You were too stupid to see it coming. _

As the thoughts passed through my head, I felt a grim satisfaction in knowing that at least by the end of night I would have repaid those fucks in blood. _As they say. Karma is a bitch._

Connor came back into the room, pale and rubbing the back of his neck. Murphy fixed him with a stern gaze. "Calm. Down." He zipped up one of the bags in front of him and threw it at Connor. "No sense in getting worked up. We'll deal with it later."

I did a double take at them, Murphy calm and collected and Connor a nervous wreck. _Did hell freeze over? Is Connor actually the one freaking out here? Isn't that Murphy's job? No, wait, that's always been mine…._I shook my head as they pulled on their coats and threw their car keys at me.

"Take it I'm driving then?"

"You know where the place is, Roc." Said Murphy sharply. Connor scrubbed a hand over his face, dark shadows under his eyes, apparently trying hard to compose himself. I grabbed the last pack of smokes on the counter and stuck them in my pocket.

"Alright, boys. Let's do this shit."

"Holy shit." Murphy's jaw fell open as he stared at the mansion in front of us. "That's his _house?_" His voice was full of both awe and disgust.

Papa Joe's humble abode was anything but humble. I had been there only a handful of times, but I never able to get over how much _shit_ the guy had in his place, or how it just screamed 'I have money!' I had never been one to envy others, until I was introduced to the fabulous lifestyle of Papa Joe and his highest ranking mafia members. They had left me wishing for even just a little sliver of what they had, or at least wishing that would do something with all the cash they had, aside from buying fine art and vintage wine.

Murphy continued to scoff, chewing on his thumb. "Who needs that much space? I mean… really?"

"That's a lot of ground to cover." Connor careened his neck, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the huge building. "

Murphy turned to me. "How many men does he have in there with him?"

"Four, maybe five. I haven't exactly been in the loop ya know." I snapped as Murphy let out a frustrated sigh.

Lights twinkled at us from the windows. We crouched down in some bushes, hidden from sight, at least for the moment. "Roc, are there cameras on the grounds? Do you know?" Connor's gaze was fixed on one window in particular.

I shrugged my shoulders. "There might be. I know he's got an alarm system, he installed it when someone tried breaking in a while back."

"Well, short of knocking on the front door and asking them politely to let us inside, I think our best bet is gonna be through that basement window." He pointed to the window he had been staring at so intently. "We can sneak through the house and pop them off one by one as we run into them."

"Right, right….that could work." Murphy nodded his head and peered over the bushes. We sat rooted to that one spot for some time, just staring at the house. Finally, Connor was the one to break the spell. "Well." He pulled on his mask. "Ready when you guys are."

We rose from the bushes and broke into a dead sprint across the expansive yard. I heard a dog barking somewhere in the distance. My heart pounded against my chest, adrenaline kicking in. It was with shaking hands that I jimmied the lock on the basement window and slid into the dark and damp basement. I felt with a loud thud, falling on my knees. Connor and Murph came in after me, their landings both much more graceful than mine. I got up from the ground and grabbed my guns out of one of the bags, double checking to see if they were loaded. I hadn't bothered to bring my duffle- just one more thing to carry around- leaving on the kitchen table.

My face felt hot under the mask; I tore it off and threw it in a bag, wiping away the beads of sweat on my forehead. _I'm not nervous. I'm not nervous. I'm am not going to flip a shit when I am so close to being free of this shit. _

Murphy appeared at my shoulder. "We can still back out if you want." I glared at him. "No. Fucking no- we're seeing this shit through."

"Then let's fucking get to it!" Connor whispered through gritted teeth. Carefully, we walked across the basement, footsteps echoing off the stone walls. There was no light to see by, and I was fucking lost. How I got stuck navigating, I didn't know, and as I walked I ran my fingers over the walls. Eventually they found the only door in the entire basement. I nodded at the twins and opened the door slowly, stepping out into the empty cream-carpeted hallway. The house was dimly lit.

"Where do you think they are?" whispered Murph. Conn and I nudged him silently in the ribs to get him to shut up. I strained my hearing; I heard voices faintly from down the hall-The office, three rooms down from where we were. I knew exactly where we were now. I pointed down the hallway and held up three fingers. They nodded their understanding and slowly we crept down to the office. The voices were now audible. Unfortunately I didn't understand a damn word of it- whoever was in the office was speaking in very rapid Italian.

Connor tensed next to me. "On three, we're going in." He whispered in a voice so low I had to strain to hear him. I nodded and counted off, guns drawn.

"One…..two….thr- AH SHIT!" I yelled as I felt someone tackle me from behind. I looked up to find Pauli, one of the fucks I had never liked to begin with, punching me. I fought back, swinging the hand that still had a gun it at his head; he avoided and grabbed my arms, pulling them behind my back.

"Hey, Vito! Look who it is!" Vito, a fat man who always reeked of onions and couldn't get laid unless he paid for the sex, looked up from restraining Connor. "Rocco! Hey, man. The boss is gonna be thrilled to see you." Connor almost got out of his grasp until another guy I had never seen before hauled off and punched him in the stomach. He doubled over instantly, though still trying to fight. Murphy, being as scrawny as he was, had an advantage over the rest of us, alluding capture by dodging punches and tackles. Eventually, he ran out of steam and lost focus, when George, a guy that had joined the family around the same time I did, grabbed a hold of him. He fought back, straining hard to get away.

I felt myself being steered toward the basement again. Something clicked in my brain. _Oh shit! Shit! Shit! Shit. _The quote 'basement' was actually an interrogation room- a lengendary one among mafia members, and, to the best of my knowledge, no one made it out that room alive.

I yelled at the top of my lungs. "You sons-of-bitches! Fuck! Shit!" I fought hard to get away, desperate to get out there. I heard Murphy and Connor screaming every curse they could think of in every language they knew; their voices echoes off the walls as we were dragged into the room and handcuffed to metals chairs. It was a den of confusion- everyone was yelling and screaming and bellowing at each other. I gritted my teeth as the one named Vito started laying into me. The cuffs on my wrists cut deep into my skin. The bite of metal brought me down to earth into a startling realization, one that sent me into fervent prayer for my soul.

_There's no way around it. I'm going to die tonight. _

**Ericka POV**

I woke to the sound of silence and a profound feeling of emptiness. The apartment was so quiet- no sounds of one of Connor's movies from the tv, no sounds of pages of a book turning from Murphy, no off key notes from a humming Roc. For the first time in months I was…. Alone.

I sat up and stretched, looking around and listening hard for any sign of the boys. I walked into the kitchen and saw a discarded bag on the table and a couple piles of rope- one neatly coiled and the other a tangled mess- thrown on the floor.

Thoughts entered my head at random. _They left me here alone. They drugged me- what the fuck was that shit? _Rage boiled in the pit my stomach; venom pooled up in my mouth. _Why are they suddenly handling me with kids gloves? What in the fuck is going on? Why didn't they let me come with- I'm not that sick….Good Lord, I'm coming to kill them with they get home._

_What if they don't come home?_ I shivered, suppressing that particular thought. _Of course they'll come back. They always come back._ The look in Connor's eyes earlier didn't exactly cement that thought into place. I reached for the bottle of whisky and took a rather large gulp, trying to soothe my nerves. I paced around the kitchen, trying to rid myself of the nervous energy suddenly flooding my body. The car keys that usually sat on top of the fridge were gone.

I peered in the bag and found a couple guns and ammo. I picked the weapon up, the weight and feel of the metal object feeling somewhat foreign and yet comforting in my hand. I hadn't shot a gun in a long time, but I was pretty positive I was still an ace marksman.

An idea formed in my brain.

I picked up the phone and dialed Annie's number as I and pulled on jeans and tshirt. She picked up, sounding annoyed.

"Annie! It's Ericka! Listen I need a favor-"

"Why the fuck aren't you resting? Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Possibly." The retort came out of my mouth before I had a chance to stop it. "Look , I don't have time to explain. But I need to use your car."

She was silence for a moment. "My car? For…."

"No questions, Ann!" I pulled on the one pair of boots I still owned, lacing them up without much thought. Annie let out a sigh; I could practically hear her rolling her eyes over the phone. "Fine. You win. I'll be by in ten. Be out front." I grabbed my coat and the bag on the table, zipping it up and slinging it over my shoulder, I left the apartment and all but ran down the stairs.

Annie pulled up the curb, radio blasting some hokey country song. I turned it off as i climbed into the passenger and stared at Annie. She didn't look too pleased with me. "I just want you to know that you interrupted the best date I have had in a very long time. The guy was smoking hot, totally into me-" she stared at me. "Ericka, honey, you look like hell! What is going on?"

I decided to cut to chase, having zero patience. "Well, you see, my fiancé, his brother, and their friend are on a mission from God that entails the maiming and killing of evil, corrupted men. Now, you see, I was supposed to go with them on this latest job of theirs- you know, to help and do a little slaying of my own, if you will. However, Murphy drugged me and oh, what a surprise, I woke up and found a bagful of guns and medical supplies in my kitchen and the car keys gone. If they really expect me to sit back and do nothing, then they have got another thing coming to them."

I expected Annie to freak out on me. To call me crazy and throw me out of her car or to beat my head in with the pair of stilettos she was wearing. Instead, she laughed at me. "Sug, that's all you had to say."

I was dumbfounded. "Uh…. What?"

"The night I came over to your apartment and saw the three of them with the guns, I put two and two together. They're the ones responsible for the murders in the Russian and Italian mobs, right?" I nodded, stunned that she figured it out based on a few scant facts. She gave me a withering look. "Don't look so surprised. I'm a hell of a lot smarter than most people like to give me credit for. Now, where am I taking you?"

I bit my lip. "Would you happen to know where Joe Yakavetta lives?" Her eyes widened. "They're hitting Papa Joe? Do they have a deathwish?"

"Probably." She shook her head at me. "You shouldn't go over there. It's gonna be a goddamned blood bath and you know it."

"I need to be there, Annie. I can't explain it but I just feel like I need to be with them right now." Annie gave me a long, hard look.

"This is going against my better judgment…." She muttered, pulling away from the curb and driving.

We were silent as Annie drove across town. The streets were dead; no one was outside. It creeped me out a little. My leg bounced up and down, the palms of my hands sweaty. I felt lightheaded all of a sudden. Annie glanced over at me. "Y'all right there?"

"Yeah." I said, letting out a shaky breath. "I'm fine."

"You look sicker than a dog. Maybe you should-"

"I'll take it easy when I know my boys are alright." Annie sighed and nodded her head, turning up the radio just loud enough for the twang of country music to reach my ears. Annie hummed along, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

I stared out the window, watching the lights twinkle as we passed by. I wished I had a cigarette, a rosary- something, anything to fidget with. I stuck my hands in my pocket, fingers brushing cold metal. Frowning, I pulled the object out of my pocket. It was my brother Erick's old Zippo lighter, the one he was given after graduating Basic- it had the Infantry emblem engraved into it. I griped it with slightly shaking hands. I had no idea how it got there- I thought I had it packed away in a box somewhere- but it brought a small smile to my face. Somehow, having a small piece of my brother with me made the whole idea of going after my adopted family seem a lot less daunting.

Annie parked a half mile away from the Yakavetta house. It was on the outskirts of the city, tucked far enough in the country side that people wouldn't bother him. I swallowed to myself, fighting off the panic that was waiting to set in as I stared at it- the place was enormous, even from a distance.

Annie turned to me. "So. You got a plan?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Kind of."I unzipped my bag and took at look at my gear. I had everything I could possibly think of, excluding rope- I had to side with Murphy on that debate; Toting around a thirty pound rope was an extreme pain in the ass. I found a business card in the very bottom of the bag. _Paul Smecker, Federal Agent. _I slipped it into my pocket, deciding that the fed might be of some use.

"What about your plans?" I asked, referring to her date that I crashed.

She opened her mouth when a loud beeping noise came from her side of the car. She groaned and pulled her pager out of her pocket. "Well, apparently my plans are going to be covering for that bitch Cindy. Looks like she called in again." Annie's tone turned serious. "Are you sure you're ok? You seriously do look sick."

"I'm fine." I opened my door. Annie grabbed my arm. "Call me afterwards, ok? And if something feels off or not quite right, get the hell out of there. Be fucking careful. Got it?"

I nodded. "Got it." I shut the door and watched her drive off, leaving me alone in the middle of the road.

I closed my eyes tightly. "Strengthen me, Holy Spirit, that I may defend all that is holy. Protect me, Holy Spirit, that I always may be holy." I took a deep breath before I opened my eyes to stare up at the mansion. "Amen."


	20. Control

Disclaimer- blah, blah, blah

AN- Forewarning- it's NOT what you think! Don't kill me! And apologies for any grammatical errors... it's late, and I suck at proofreading. lol.

**Ericka POV**

"Can I help you?"

The repulsive looking man who answered the door looked me up and down, apparently appraising me. I gave him the most innocent look I could conjure up, given the circumstances. _My fiancé, his brother, and their best friend are somewhere in this house, and they're either kicking same major ass, or they're getting their ass's handed to them_. Judging by the fact someone had actually came to the door, I had a sinking feeling that it was the latter.

I gave the man a sheepish smile, wringing the strap on the bag slung over my shouler. "Um, I was wondering if I could borrow a phone? You know, to call a tow truck? My car broke down a mile or so from here, and well, this is the first house I ran across."

The mantra o_f Get in, get the boys, get the fuck out of there _played on repeat in my brain. That was the plan- or at least the best one I could come up with anyways. I couldn't exactly pull off a Normandy Beach and storm the place, so that left me with the option of sneaking in- And what better way to sneak into someone's house than by waltzing through the front door, right in plain view?

He looked pained. "Sorry, sweetie. Normally I would but…." He glanced over his shouler. "Now's not really a good time." He gestured to the city. "Look, if you keep going down the road, there's some houses down there, I'm sure someone will help you out."He made to shut the heavy wooden door in my face. I stuck my foot in the way, forcing him to keep it open.

"But sir!" I pleaded. "I'm freezing to death out here, and I'm not from Boston." My voice adopted a high pitch as I talked. "Please?" If I had Murphy's nail biting habit, I would've had bloody cuticles at this point. I was so nervous, I was visibly shaking…but then again, that might have been the cold wind getting to me, or maybe whatever illness I had contracted h decided to flare up. Either way, I hoped I had garnered enough skills from high school drama classes and that I looked pathetic and defenseless enough for the guy to take pity on me.

He looked around again and sighed. "Fine, come in, come in." He pulled on my arm, dragging me across the threshold forcefully. I fought the urge to crinkle up my nose- he reeked off onions and garlic.

The house was warm and inviting; if I hadn't known who it belonged to, I would've loved to have spent a night or two there. He steered me through the front room. Another man, looking as Italian as the one leading me barged through a door. He looked lived. "Vito! What the fuck are you doing?"

"Pauli, calm the fuck down! Her car broke down, she needs to borrow the phone is all." The man named Pauli looked like he wanted to deck Vito.

"Well hurry the fuck up, we need you down there." Skeptical, I raised my eyebrows out of pure habit. "Plumping issue, line broke in the basement." Said Pauli at my expression. I nodded and smiled at him, trying to imitate Annie's sweet-than-punch face. "Gotcha."

_Plumbing issue? Yeah fucking right. The fucker told me exactly where the boys are._

Pauli ducked out of the room. Vito gestured to the chair and handed me a phone and a thick phonebook. "Here you go, sweetie. Go ahead and make your call, I'll be right back. Gotta check on them, ya know? Can't leave the guys alone for too long"

I laughed with him. "Yeah, I understand. Thank you for letting me use your phone."

Apparently my mediocre at best acting was fooling him. He nodded ferevrishly, looking pleased with himself. "It's nothing. Be right back." He walked out of the room, practically sauntering.

I pulled Smecker's card out of my pocket and dialed the number, twirling the phone chord in my fingers nervously. Remarkably, he picked up on the first ring. "Smecker speaking."I paused, partially trying to figure out where I'd heard his voice before- he sounded like someone I knew at one point- and partially trying to get my words in order. There had to be more than one phone in the house, and who knew if someone was listening in or not.

"This is Annie MacManus, and my car broke down. I need a tow truck as soon as possible."I held my breath, hoping he would get the message, even if he had no idea as to who I was- the last name would get the point across, I hoped.

He seemed to catch on. "Right…..Well, give me the location of your car?"

"About a mile or so south of Boston."

"I'll be there shortly, say… twenty to thirty minutes? That gonna be soon enough for you?" I didn't miss the real question he was asking me- Will you be alright for that amount of time?

"Yeah, that should be fine, thank you." I hung up and then dug through the phone book, dialing the first tow truck number I saw and hanging up after the first ring, covering my tracks in case someone decided to redial the last call.

Vito came into the room. "Any luck?"

"Yeah." I flashed him a smile. "Tow truck should be here in thirty minutes or so. Do you mind if I wait here?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I don't mind at all. A girl as cute as you shouldn't be out in the cold anyways." I made a point to giggle impishly like a schoolgirl. He rubbed the palms of his hands together. "Would you like a drink to warm you up?" he asked.

"Sure." I said, taking the arm he offered me as we walked through the highly ornate house to the kitchen. He plucked a bottle of wine from a cabinet and poured us each a glass. I accepted it and took a sip. My stomach instantly started to roll. I willed myself to not puke all over- I could do that later.

"So, miss, you know my name, what's yours?" Vito asked, initiating the game of twenty questions.

"It's Annie."

"Annie what?"

"MacManus." I said. His face instantly grew tight. My mouth went dry. _Shit._ "Where are you from again?" he asked warily.

"I'm from Texas. I'm just up here, looking at a couple grad schools. I already have my bachelor's degree, but I want my master's." I improvised on the spot, thickening the natural southern accent i had, and trying hard to buy myself some time. It seemed to work because he relaxed instantly.

"Ah. What's your Major?"

"Nursing." He nodded. "That's cool. Always wanted to be a doctor, but ah well… What can you do?"" he drained the last of his glass in one gulp. "So what's the deal? You're a cute little thing, where's your boyfriend? Why are you travelling alone?"

His voice seemed so far away. My ears were ringing and my neck felt stiff. "Well… I did have a boyfriend. But he died. Horrible car wreck. Drunk driver clipped him, killed him instantly." I felt a burning sensation in my eyes as I forced tears to pool up and threaten to spill over.

Vito cleared his throat. "I'm so sorry. That's…that's horrible." I heard him say.

"It was awful." I whispered in agreement, tears sliding down my face. He looked helpless. "Don't cry! Don't cry!" He wiped the tears from my face with a sweaty hand, frowning down at me. "You're burning up there, your face is red. Are you okay?"

"Must be the wine." I sighed, trying hard to focus on the situation at hand. "Um, do you have a bathroom I could use?" I sniffed. "You know, fix my makeup and such?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course I do. Right down the hall, there you go." He pointed me in the right direction. I nodded and walked into the room, shutting the door behind me.

I waited until I head his footsteps leaving the kitchen to pull out guns from the bag that had been clinging to the whole time, loading them as fast as I could. The weight of the metal in my hands was reassuring. I glanced in the mirror and took a real look at my appearance for the first time in weeks. My cheeks were flushed, sweat beading around my hairline. My hands shook a little._ I look like hell. Fuck, I feel like it too._

Sudden loud noises came through the vent. Or maybe they weren't sudden and I had just finally tuned into my surroundings. I crouched down and put my ear to the vent, listening hard. It was mostly incoherent screaming, but I knew exactly who it was.

"Roc! God no!"

A single gunshot rang through the air and the agonizing cries met my ears. My blood ran cold as I realized what just happened. They killed Rocco. My head reeled, and I stood up slowly, trying hard to shake the desperate need to cry.

Rocco. The man who had invaded my apartment night after night, who had raided my fridge for beer and cooked pasta in my kitchen, the man who kept me from going nuts when Murphy and Connor were at the Russian bar, he was dead, lying somewhere in the house with a bullet lodged in him.

I heard the doorbell chime. It broke me out of the trance I had been in and brought me back to reality. Roc was dead. But my boys weren't. I could hear them screaming obscenities and curses.

Ignoring the slight tremors passing through my body, I opened the door to the bathroom and walked out, guns drawn.

_It's on now. It is fucking on now. _

**Murphy POV**

Somewhere in the house, a doorbell rang. I didn't really give two shits who it was. I didn't care that I was bloodied up and hurt, lying on the ground and handcuffed to a chair. I didn't even care that Connor was in the same condition as me.

Rocco was shot, bleeding out- as good as dead. I curled up next to him, face only a few inches from his. I heard him breathing hard, choking on the blood that was pooling in his mouth.

"No! No! No!" I heard Connor yelling the word over and over, as if he could reverse what had just happened, as if shouting his protest repeatedly would somehow magically heal Roc's wounds and bring him back from a surefire death.

Roc looked up at us with glazed eyes, fighting to get his last words out. "You can't stop. Get outta here." He gasped. "Don't stop. Don't ever stop." His eyes closed and his body went limp; I couldn't hear his breath coming in ragged, short bursts like they had been. I buried my face in his shoulder and let out a scream.

_He's fucking….gone_.

Tears came to my eyes and I let them fall. If there was a time for mourning and for shame to surface, then this had to be it. _This wa_s_ entirely my fucking fault. He shouldn't have been dragged into this shit…and yet I was the one who let him in on everything._ I wanted to punch, kick, maim something, anything. I felt myself thrashing around on the floor, unable to do anything else.

"Murph. Murphy! Look at me." Came Connor's hoarse voice. I looked up and saw his face, eyes burning with unvoiced emotion. "We need to get out of here. Get up." When I didn't move, he starting shouting. "Murphy for god sake's! Get the fuck up! Please, get up!"

Begrudgingly, I got on my knees and rose to my feet, sitting the chair down on all fours. Connor leaned his chair back and after a couple attempts, managed to get his cuffed foot free. Catching on, I turned my chair around and pulled tight on my cuff encircling my left. I bit down hard on my shirt collar, knowing from the numerous times Connor had broken his wrist how bad it was going to hurt. "Do it!"

It took a few tries, but Connor managed to break my wrist, making it possible to get the cuffs off my hand. Unchained, I looked around, trying to find something to use as a weapon in case they came back in suddenly, adrenaline numbing the pain in my arm. My knife was tucked away in a corner, thrown away carelessly after they captured us. I grabbed it and suddenly the door opened. One of the pricks that had been beating on us walked into the room, looking dumbfound to see only one of his prisoners cuffed to a chair. "What the fuck?" he asked, mouth open wide. I pounced on him, sinking my knife deep into his back; he fell to the floor and Connor stood up from his chair, kicking him with a steel toed boot.

Maybe we got too carried away. Maybe his death was too painful, too brutal. Maybe I should have slit his throat and let him bleed out- a nice quiet, quick death. But for some reason, we kept beating on the poor bastard, until his own mother couldn't have recognized him. Once he was dead we searched him, looking for weapons. We found two guns- our guns of all fucking things, on him, along with the keys to the hands cuffs. I got them off of Connor and threw the damned things against the wall, glad that I was at least able to spare him the pain of breaking his wrist again.

My eyes fell on Rocco. At the same time, Connor and I picked up his chair and set it upright. I pulled the only two pennies I had on me out of my pocket, handing one to Connor. We each placed one over his eye and dropped to our knees in front of him.

After a moment of silence, we started to pray in low voices, trying to show the man even a modicum of the respect he deserved. He was rash and impulsive, rude and harebrained, but loyal to a damning fault. His body in front of us was proof of that.

"And shepherds we shall be for Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand-" a soft click came from behind us. At once we turned around, guns aimed at the source.

It was the geriatric gunslinger, as Ericka had nicked named him. Instead of pointing his guns at us, he was pointing them away. He spoke in raspy voice, around the cigar in his mouth. "Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command."

_Wait, what the fuck? How does he know our prayer? _I put my gun down and stared up at him, anger boiling underneath the surface. _Who the fuck is this guy?_

"So we shall flow a river forth to Thee. And teeming with souls shall it ever be. In nomine Patri, Et Fili, Spiritus Sancti." He crossed over Roc's body and looked to us. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Connor looking at him in disbelief.

The man slowly lowered his hands and touched them to our faces. I didn't dare move for fear of setting the guy off.

_He has to be stalking us, following us, what the hell. There's no way….no fucking way…. He's not… We're not…_

**Connor POV**

"My boys." Whispered the man. He took off the shades he was wearing and pulled the cigar out his mouth. I saw it then, saw the connection crystal clear. He had the same eyes as us; the same body build as me, the same smirk Murphy wore.

_Holy fucking shit. _

"Da?" I asked tentatively. The bearded man nodded, eyes crinkling as he smiled down at us. As much as I wanted to punch him for smiling in the presence of Roc's dead body, for trying to kill us, I couldn't move.

_This is our….father? The one that's been missing our entire lives?_

_What are the fucking chances we turned into killers like him? _

"Boys." The man slipped on his shades. "We have much to talk about."

"Damn right we do." Muttered Murphy under his breath, glaring at him hatefully.

The man- or Da, rather, pretended not to hear him, finishing his thought without missing a beat. "There's time for talk later. We need to leave. Find a safe place to stay. The man you're looking for isn't here anyways."

I didn't question how he knew who were looking for. For all I knew, the guy was God himself; I wasn't about to ask any unnecessary questions of the man. "We've got a place already." I said, standing up on sore legs. "My fiancé knows about…everything." I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, knowing all too well the hell I was walking into once I got home, knowing how hard she was going to take the news about Rocco, knowing she was going to blame herself somehow. I looked back at Rocco, expecting to see him grinning cheekily back at me and laughing. "Gotcha!" he'd say, and this nightmare would be over.

Except he was still sitting there, pennies over his eyes, blood congealing as I stared at him.

Da cleared his throat. "C'mon. Let's go." I didn't need to be told twice. I couldn't stomach another second in that pit of a room. I walked out without looking behind me. Murphy took a minute to catch up with us; I heard him whispering another prayer in Gaelic as we left the room.

We entered the kitchen; I wasn't prepared for the sight in front of me. The guy that smelled horribly like onions was lying in the middle of the floor, holding a wine glass in his hand with a bullet in the middle of his forehead. Murphy looked at him impassively, slipping through the room.

"This one of yours?" I asked Da in a low voice. He cocked his head. "No. Must have been the woman I saw earlier."

"There was a woman?" I asked sharply. "What'd she look like?"

"Tall, brown hair. Didn't see her face. Knocked her out before she could look at me." I breathed a sigh of relief. _It wasn't her._

Something caught my eye as I walked past the dead man on the floor. A small silver lighter was lying on the floor. I picked it up and stared at it, the emblem of crossed rifles etched into the side of it. I had never in my life seen it before, but it seemed so out of place in an Italian man's home. I slipped it into my pocket, following Da out of the room.

In the next room, there were a few bodies' two of them dead, the other one a female with poofy hair sprawled facedown on the floor. Murph glanced down at her. "You sure that's a woman?" he asked slowly. "She's got some manly hands."

"Only one way to find out." I grabbed her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. My mouth fell open.

"What the fuck? Smecker?" Murphy looked from me to Da then back to back to Smecker, his face perplexed. "The fuck is he doing here? He knows we were coming here." Murphy knelt down and started slapping his face lightly. "Paul. Wake up. Wake the fuck up man." He said in a stern tone that would have rivaled Ericka's. Smecker groaned lightly and after a few minutes was awake and rather shocked to see us.

"What the-" he sat up, pulling off the wig he was wearing. It was a rather disturbing sight to say the least, but he seemed rather unabashed by the fact he was wearing a dress and makeup. "You guys are alright?"

"Yeah. Kind of." Said Murph, his tone clipped. Smecker's eyes flickered over all of us. "So, he's not actually out to kill you?" he pointed to Da. I shrugged. "He was. He's on our side now."

"Ah." He got up off the floor, standing upright in six inch heels. I was impressed- I didn't know many women, let alone men who could do that gracefully. "Well, where's the girl?" he asked.

My stomach dropped. "What girl?"

His eyebrows raised. "Got an SOS call from an Annie MacManus. Doubt that's her real name, but I assume you know she actually is."

Murph shook his head. "We didn't have a woman come with us. We had Rocco, but.." he stopped and cleared his throat. "But the only Annie we know works at the same hospital as Ericka."

"Who is?"

"My fiancé." I had forgotten that I hadn't mentioned her in all of this. By the time we made the contact call to Smecker, we already decided that Ericka wasn't going to come with us.

_At least, we had decided that. _I felt a cold wave pass through my body. _What if Ericka had other ideas?_

"Fuck!" Murphy grabbed my shoulder. "She's here. She's fucking here. Shit!" I knew he was right as I reached for the lighter in my pocket, knowing that it belonged to her.

But I didn't want to believe it. "No fucking way it's her-You drugged her!" I protested.

"I'm fucking aware of that fact, it was my idea! I must not have given her enough of the shit." And then he was off in the direction we had just come from, bellowing her name at the top of his lungs. I followed after, shouting along with her.

_Good God, don't let her be dead. Don't let her die too. _

"Boys?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Ericka?" I yelled frantically. "Ericka? Where are you?" Slow shuffled footsteps came from behind us. I turned and saw my angel staring at me, splattered in blood. I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to me, relief washing over me.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked, face buried in her hair.

"You were here." She pulled away from me and looked around, raking her hair back. I didn't notice until later how flushed her cheeks were, how much effort it took her to talk, how she shook just standing there. "I heard it through the vents in the bathroom… Roc's dead, I know." She looked at me miserably, eyes glistening. "He was a good man."

Silence fell between all of us. Finally, Murph cut through the tension, pulling her into a hug, wincing as he jostled his arm. "You're fucking stupid sometimes, know that?" He muttered, voice cracking. Da cleared his throat. "We need to leave."

Ericka nodded at him. "Yes, Da."

We stared at her. "How did you know-?"

She smiled at us weakly. "Got your eyes." She took a couple steps in the direction of the front door before stopping suddenly. "Connor…" she whimpered, collapsing. I caught her before she hit the floor, staggering under her dead weight. Murphy's eyes met mine in horror.

"Connor. She's bleeding." He said in a shaky voice. I glanced down at her legs; there were dark crimson stains pooling on her inner thighs. I didn't want to think about what may or may not have happened to her; I just wanted to get her help.

We ran out of the house, Smecker's heels making loud, rhythmic click-cloping noises on the floor. The situation might have been hilarious on the silver screen- two guys running around and carrying a passed out girl, accompanied by a trigger happy old man and a cross-dresser- hell, it rivaled _Weekend at Bernie's _as far as hilarity. This wasn't the least bit amusing however; I felt the panic clawing at me, threatening to consume me.

Smecker stopped us as we made to cross the lawn. "Give her to me. All I have to do is show my badge and they'll treat her, no questions asked."

I shook my head. "No, no I can't just leave her-"

Murphy, for once, was the voice of reason. He put a soothing hand on my back. "We're covered in blood, Connor. They're gonna ask questions. Just do as he says, alright?" Slowly, I nodded and followed Smecker to his car, placing her carefully in the passenger's seat.

Smecker handed me his pager. "Wait for me to contact you. Find a motel and stay there. Got it?" he locked eyes with me, making sure I understood. I nodded and stepped back from the car, relinquishing control to someone, anyone else as I watched Smecker drive off. Da took us to his vehicle and Murphy climbed into the backseat with me. I felt him watching me like a hawk.

The streetlights were a blur from the cold car window. I was numb. I didn't want to think, feel, or sense anything- I just wanted to sleep for a long, long time. It felt like we were in the cars for hours; time had lost all meaning. Somewhere along the lines, Da pulled into a motel, and we checked into a room. He left Murphy and I alone, forbidding us to leave the room. I had no idea what he was doing or where he was going or where the hell we even go. Frankly, I didn't care.

Murphy ducked into the bathroom as soon as Da left and showered. He took an unusually long time, though if I listened hard enough, I could just make out the sounds of muffled crying; I made an effort to not listen. I laid on one of the beds and stared at the ceiling, counting the moldings, trying to find shapes and pictures in them.

Murph stepped out of the bathroom, cradling his wrist, not looking at me. I rolled off the bed and went to the bathroom to shower, all in the name of having something to do, something to keep my mind off things. I washed the blood off my skin, watched it circle and go down the drain. I stood under the showerhead until it ran cold, staring unfocused at the tiled wall.

There was a knock on the door. "Connor. You okay in there?" came Murph's voice.

"Fine. I'm fine." My own voice was so unfamiliar- it was never that scratchy sounding, that defeated. I got out of the shower and pulled on my jeans, leaving my bloody shirt in the trash, wishing I just could burn it.

Murphy threw a shirt at me. "Found this in my bag." He muttered. I pulled it on; must have been one of his shirts because it didn't fit me right.

"Thanks." I sat down on the other bed opposite of him, face in my hands. I heard the shift of bed springs, cautious footsteps, and felt the weight of another body next to me. I looked over at Murphy and lost it completely.

"Fuck Murph...Just… fuck…." Sobs wracked my body. Tears spilled. I couldn't stop, no matter how hard I tried to calm down. It all was so much to take in. "Roc's fucking dead. Ericka- God, I don't even know. What…why? Why would God do this to us?" I looked at him for an answer or solution, but he looked as lost as I felt.

"I don't know." He didn't bother to disguise the sorrow or hopelessness in his own voice. He wrapped his good arm around my shoulder and I leaned into the embrace, grateful for the physical comfort. "I guess it's in the Lord's hands now." He muttered, voice so quiet i could hardly hear him.

_That's the sickest part of the whole thing- it's always been in his hands. Always._

Wearily, I closed my eyes as I rested my head on Murph's shoulder, holding out for a phone call or for the pager to go off, or for God to strike me down where I sat.

Because all I could do at that point was wait. Just wait.


	21. Fix und Fertig

Disclaimer here (y'all know the drill by now.)

**AN- So I opened up my email and was greeted by a whole slew of 'added to favorites/story alert' messages. This totally my day, you have no idea! =) Also, to anyone who had reviewed, thank you sooooooooooo much! (props to Saoirse Driscoll for reviewing almost every single chapter!) To those who haven't reviewed who would like to make my day, leave a comment! Please please please? *makes puppy dog eyes***

**Apologies in advanced if this chapter seems so overloaded with information- I wrote it like that intentionally. Also, I wrote this chapter listening to Circa Survive's new ep called Appendage. If you haven't heard of the band, check them out. They are so inspiring. Anyway. Enough of my rambling- read on!**

It was four am, and there was still no word from Smecker. Connor had fallen into a restless sleep and Da- or whoever the fuck he was- had yet to return, leaving me to pace the dingy motel room alone. I felt like caged animal- the room was too small, too confining. It felt like a prison cell- I mean, there were even bars on the windows. _I need a smoke. _ I patted down the pockets of my coat for the fifth time, coming up empty handed. I let out a frustrated groan and instantly my thumb went to my mouth. _Always out of smokes at the exact wrong time. Fuckin' Rocco, taking the last pack we had-_

Guilt washed over me, thick and heavy, like a wet blanket. _Rocco is dead. And it's my fault. _ I sat down in the threadbare chair by the window and watched the streets numbly. It was a still night. No wind, no rain, no fog, no one walking or driving around. It felt like the world had literally stopped moving- and somehow that seemed appropriate, all things considered.

_Roc's dead. Ericka could be dead. Our long lost father appeared out of the blue- after trying to kill us. Connor is literally falling apart in front of me. _I looked back over at my twin. He was curled up on his side, brow furrowed, fidgeting. I couldn't fathom how he must have felt.

Watching him lose his composure was wasn't frightening- it was downright terrifying to me. He was always the one who kept it together when shit hit the fan, who kept me from sinking- for Christ sake's, he jumped off a building to save me, it was pretty apparent he'd be there for me, come hell or high water. Now I had to somehow fill those shoes and keep the both of us afloat- and the idea of failing my brother the one time he really needed me wasn't one I could bear.

I had felt lost, watching him break down, fingers knotted in his hair and gasping for air, knowing I couldn't do anything but sling an arm around his shoulder and wait it out with him. "Why would God do this to us?" He had asked me, like I somehow had the answers. Truth is, I was asking myself the same thing. We had dutifully carried out our mission from the Lord, playing God with a gun, gambling on our very lives- and it had cost one, maybe two lives that weren't even ours.

Wasn't that enough for Him?

It was enough for me at least. I bowed my head and started ranting silently at the heavens. _I won't do this anymore. Find someone else to be your scapegoat, your instrument, tool- what-have-you. This whole fucking thing has cost us the chance of ever having a shot at a normal life. It cost Rocco his own life- and he got roped into the shit on accident, more or less._

I stopped ranting long enough for the white noise of Conn's breathing and the room's old heater running to fill my ears. Otherwise, it was quiet, similar to the stillness of the world outside.

The silence of the room really pissed me of. Like God had put my call on hold.

_Whatever. Fuck this. We're out, for good this time. _

Another thought entered my brain. _We didn't even get to Papa Joe. _ Anger started to swell in my stomach, sending uncontrollable tremors through me, my mind shifting gears. _We'll fucking get him. We'll get him. _

High pitched beeping came from the bed Connor was laying on. I jumped out my chair and crossed the room in threesteps. It was coming from Smecker's pager. I had to pry it out of Connor's hand; he had fallen asleep holding onto it.

I dialed the number, clutching to the grimy phone receiver. Almost immediately, someone picked up. "Who am I talking to?" came Smecker's voice. Vaguely I wondered if he was still dressed in drag- the sight of him in smeared makeup and a dress was an image that would be forever imbedded in my brain.

"It's Murphy." I sighed. "Tell me something good, man."

I heard Smecker hesitate. "Well, I wish I could, Murph. It's complicated."

"Complicated? What in the fuck does that mean?" I growled.

Connor stirred across from me, slowly waking up. "The fuck you talking to?" he muttered, pressing his palms against his eyes.

It was Smecker's turn to sigh. "Get down here as soon as you can. It'll be…easier to explain then." He sounded as tired as I felt.

"Fine. Just tell me, is she alive?"

His words sent a cold chill through me. "For now, yes, she's alive."

_It must be bad. Really bad._

"Meet me in front of the hospital in Southie as soon as possible." He hung up, leaving me feeling sick. I took some comfort in knowing that she was in the very place she worked in- at least the night shift nurses knew what they were doing there.

I looked up and found Connor staring at me, face blank. His eyes were dark and distant, miles away. Without a word, we pulled on boots and coats, walking outside to the cold and still night.

Our car was sitting in front of the motel while Da's car was nowhere to be found. I didn't bother to question how our car got to us or where in the hell the old man went. I was grateful to finally be out of the stale room and to be going somewhere with a purpose. Connor climbed into the passenger seat, resting his head on the window. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, only half paying attention to the empty roadways as I drove. He looked like a man just waiting to die….so damn….sad. Dejected. Hopeless. The rings around his eyes matched Ericka's, and the bruises had fully bloomed across his pale face. I felt my chest tighten a little as I thought of what Connor might do if Ericka was indeed dying, dead, whatever. He wouldn't take his life, that much I was sure of. Suicide was a mortal sin, after all

_Of course, so is killing a man. What do we know about sin when we bathe in it? _

_No, he wouldn't kill himself. He'd just wait for something to kill him instead. _

I parked the car and got out, walking to the front of hospital. Connor sat in the car, unmoving. "Ya coming?" I asked, concerned. He nodded. "Yeah….i'll catch up with you in a minute." The dazed look on his face didn't make me feel any better, but I sensed he needed a few minute to screw his head back on-before be lost the last little bit of composure and sanity he had left.

I found Smecker standing at a payphone, chain smoking. He offered me a smoke as I approached and I gladly took it, grateful to have something to take off the edge.

Smecker started the conversation without beating around the bush. "Where's Connor?"

"In the car. He's, um, taking this all rather badly. Can't say I blame him."

Smecker nodded in grim understanding. "Well, perhaps it's best he takes his time catching up." He sighed and leaned against the payphone, getting to point of why we were here to begin with. "Ericka is touch and go at this point. She somehow contracted viral meningitis, which means any medication she's given is basically useless."

I felt the stupidity hit me. _Meningitis. Of all fucking things. _The signs- fever, vomiting, she had complained of headaches and flinched at bright lights. _I should've seen it. _

The news grew even worse as he continued talking. "She's been put into a medically induced coma, in the hopes that her body will be able to fight off the virus easier. It's impossible to tell whether or not she'll have normal brain function when and if she wakes up."

I was suddenly very glad that I had let Connor take his time in meeting up with Smecker.

"Also," he paused, looking rather sick. "The doctors say she was involved in some sort of physical altercation, which caused her to lose both of the fetus's-"

I choked, mind not fully processing his words. _What the fuck did he just say? _"She's pregnant with twins?"

Smecker looked sympathetic. "Was pregnant." he corrected me. "She lost them. Not that it mattered. If it wasn't that, the meningitis would've killed them anyways."

_This is going to kill Conn_. All in one night, his friend and his unborn kids- that none of us had known about- were dead. And his fiancé was in limbo, hovering between life and death.

"We should've dragged her here." I muttered miserably, looking up at the massive brick building in front of me. "She was sick, but we thought it was just the flu. And she was still going to work, she refused to stay at home and actually take a sick day…" I felt like I was uttering excuses, trying to find a way to pin the blame on someone else besides me and Connor when that was exactly where it belonged.

"Don't blame yourself, Murphy, not for Ericka's stubbornness," Smecker grabbed my shoulder, shaking me as he gave me a stern look. "That's how Ericka is, how she's always been."

"Uh….you know Ericka?" I asked.

He lit up another cigarette and nodded. "Yeah, I know her. She's my little sister." He snorted at the dumbfounded expression on my face. "I'm the brother formerly known as Phillip. Witness protection is an amazing thing." He made a face, as if to contradict his statement. "Haven't seen her or Erick since I supposedly died. Neither one of them know I'm alive."

"Erick died a couple years ago." I told him bluntly.

"Oh." He looked thoughtful. "Guess that's what happens when you're out your family's life for over a decade. You stay uninformed" He took another drag of his cigarette, making it clear that the subject was closed to discussion. "Well, it's up to you how much you want to tell Connor."

"Tell me what?" We turned to see Connor standing behind us, arms, folded over his chest. Smecker looked at me meaningfully, as if he was warning me to tread lightly. As if I needed telling twice.

I couldn't lie to Connor. But I couldn't tell him the truth either. He needed to see it for himself. "C'mon, Conn. Let's go see Ericka."

Smecker led us though the hallways of the hospital, to the glass window that housed the ICU. In one of the beds was Ericka, hooked up to machines, wires a seemingly organized mess. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Connor. He unconsciously pressed his fingertips to the glass, staring at her with an agonized look.

"Connor?" came a soft voice. I turned my head and saw Annie standing in the doorway of the ICU in floral printed scrubs, hair up in a messy ponytail. She nodded at me recognition and slowly walked up to Connor. She gently touched his arm. He flinched violently and reached for a gun that wasn't there. Annie didn't look the least bit phased, like she dealt with trigger happy men all the time. Then again, she was from the South, so she probably did.

"Do you want to see her?" she asked softly. Connor pursed his lips, nodding his head. "Yeah. Yeah, can I?" His eyes were focused again, shining urgently. Annie smiled at him. "Of course, hon. Right his way, c'mon on now." Connor followed her into the room, hands deep in his pockets. We watched through the glass as he sat in a chair next to her bed. He shrugged out of his coat and pulled off his rosary, clasping it in between his and Ericka's limp hand. He bowed his head and I watched him pray, lips moving feverishly.

Annie walked back out of the room and nailed me with an angry stare. She walked up to me and grabbed a hold of my coat. "Walk with me." She dragged me down the hall to a random door. She opened it and pulled me in, slamming it behind us. It was a supply closet, and a cramped one at that. We barely had room to stand a foot apart.

"There better be a damn good reason why you two are here." She spat at me in hushed tones.

"We're here for her!" I said, suddenly remembering she knew nothing of our second life- and I had no idea how to cover our tracks. Connor had always been the one with the gift of making up stories on the spot- usually all I had to do was follow his lead and we would be home free.

"You two should be on the run right now! The doctors think _he _beat the shit out of her, there's cops crawling around this place, they're going to arrest him on the spot if they find him here!"

"He wouldn't fucking lay a hand on her, none of us would! Fuck!" My hands balled up into fists. "You haven't seen him- he's in fucking shambles!"

"I know he didn't do it! I drove her to Papa Joe's for Christ sakes!"

My jaw dropped. "You did WHAT?"

"She called me, asked me for a ride, and you know what? I gave her one. Because she wanted to be there to protect you guys, to make sure the shit didn't hit the fan. And don't you even think of blaming me, if I hadn't given her a ride, she would have found another way and you know it as well as I do." She stared me right in the eyes. "You know what else I know? I know you two are the ones killing members of the mafia. What are y'all called in the papers? The Saints?"

Full blown panic set in. "How the fuck do you know? Ericka didn't tell you did she?"

"Yeah, but it didn't really matter. I figured it out when all of you pulled guns on me one night. C'mon now. I'm not stupid." She added sourly at my look of shock.

"Never said you were." My heart was pounding somewhere up in my throat.

Annie squeezed her eyes tight. "Goddamn, this is one fucked up situation."

"You've got that right…."I muttered, not sure if she heard me or not.

"Well. What are you gonna do? Because you can't stay here in Boston, it's too risky." I suddenly noticed how close her face was to mine.

"It'd be just as risky if we run. I'm sure Smecker will help us out somehow. But we're not going to just abandon Ericka."

She was silent for a moment. She took a hold of my wrist, gingerly feeling it. I winced, remembering for the first time in hours it was broken. "Feels like a clean break. This goes against what I was taught in school, but wrap it, put it up in a sling and avoid using it. It'll fuse back together on it's own. I'll swipe some painkillers for you, it's gonna hurt like a bitch while it's healing." She let go of my arm and then let out a breath, shoulders sagging, eyes suddenly sad. "You know, I couldn't handle it."

I frowned. "Handle what?"

"Being with a Saint." She said. "Know why I stopped talking to you after I figured out who you guys were? It wasn't because I was afraid of you. It was because I knew something like this would happen eventually."

I didn't know what to say to that. I knew she was right- hell, I had seen it that day in the church when Connor asked Ericka out on a date. I knew exactly where it would end up- disaster. And yet, the closer the two of them became as a couple, the more I began to care about her. I tried for indifference, but she just grew on me. She was like my sister in a strange way- I even referred to her in my head as 'the other twin' at times. And while it hurt to acknowledge that we should have never let her into our lives, it hurt even more to think of what life would have been like without her.

Annie gave me a weak smile at my silence. "You know, if you weren't a Saint, if you led a normal life, I would've dated you in a heartbeat. I think we might've been good together. But I'm not cut out for your kind of life." She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. "It's a damn shame it has to be this way, Murph." She gently pushed me out of the way and left the closet.

Numbly I followed her back into the ICU, to Erick's bedside, taking a hold of her other hand. Connor was still praying softly. I watched him for a while, feeling exhausted. I had half a mind to tell him that praying was useless, that God didn't answer unless it was convenient for him. But it seemed to be keeping Conn going, giving him some reassurance. I wasn't about to take that away him- God had taken away enough from him. I laid my head down on my arms letting Connor's voice lull me to sleep, thoughts entering my head at random.

_We never really had a choice in all of this. _

_Or did we?_

_Hell if I know…..Hell if I know. _


	22. Lucky

**Disclaimer- blah blah blah.**

**An- OMG! I'm so stoked to see the reviews and the story alert/favorite story notifications! Anyway, here's the next chapter. =) Enjoy!**

Slow beeping came from the machines. _Beep. Beep. Beep. _The noise was a constant drone, one that became louder and softer with my awareness. I faded in and out of it as time passed. Sometimes it passed by in the blink of an eye, several hours gone in what felt like minutes. Other times, it dragged on, slow, agonizing.

Time was relative. Time didn't matter until she woke up.

Murph was in and out of the room. At first he tried to get me to talk; eventually he was silent when he dropped in, sitting at Ericka's bedside with me. By all rational thought, I knew that just sitting there, waiting for her to wake up wasn't going to make her come back any faster. But I couldn't make myself leave- what if she woke up? Three days had passed and it seemed less and less likely that she would ever open her eyes again; but that didn't stop me from hoping and praying like a religious madman.

"Conn?" Murphy was standing next to me. I hadn't noticed him enter the dimly lit room. "Connor?" he asked again, this time a bit louder. I glanced up at him.

"What d'ya need?"

"Nothing. Just checking in on you." He said softly.

"I'm fine."

Murph made a noise- like he was calling bullshit on me. "When's the last time you left this room?" I didn't answer- I honestly didn't know. "C'mon. Let's get you a smoke, fresh air would do ya some good." His voice became pleading. "Conn. Please. Humor me here."

I couldn't say no to him, not when he used _that _tone of voice. I got up slowly and followed him outside. My muscles ached from sitting in that damn chair for so long. I stretched and took a deep breath of the cold air, lightheaded. Murph lit two cigarettes and handed one to me. We stood on the curb in silence until we finished our smokes. I made to go back inside the hospital. Murph grabbed my shoulder. "Hey, c'mon. Give it a rest. You've been in that damn room since we got here. Ericka would kill you if she saw you like this."

I shrugged, knowing he was right. "Probably."

"She'd eat you alive." He let go of me and crossed his arms over his chest. For once, he wasn't fidgeting or moving about restlessly- very out of character for him. "Take an hour or two. Go back to the hotel, shower, get some clean clothes, food, catch a couple hours of sleep if you need to. I'll sit with her if it'll make you feel better. Please? For me?"

I sighed and nodded, giving in. Murph fished the car keys and pager out of his pocket. "I'll let you know if something comes up." He handed them to me and clapped my arm before turning on his heel and walking back into the hospital.

I drove around in circles for a while. The motel was the last place I wanted to go- dirty and depressing, the idea made me crawl out of my skin. I drove to the apartment, not realizing what I was doing until I stood at the front door. It was home, and I needed a few creature comforts.

I was surprised to find the apartment almost exactly how we left it. I noticed a bottle of whisky had migrated from the counter to the table, and Roc's duffel was missing. _Ericka probably took it with her._ I picked up the bottle and poured myself a glassful- Something about wandering around the apartment, drinking straight out of the bottle just screamed 'rock bottom' to me.

Of course, keeping the glass an arm's length from the shower could also be considered rock bottom. I forced my muscles to relax under the hot water. It was like there was too much energy in my body, all sorts of wound up- actually, I was pretty sure I had real sense of how Murphy felt most days- _No wonder he fidgets so much._

I wandered around the apartment, towel around my waist, trashing the bloodstained jeans I had been wearing and throwing Murph's borrowed shirt into a corner. Clothes had a real habit of disappearing around the apartment; usually they were found in a corner, or in a rouge dresser drawer. It turned out they were folded up and put away in the proper places. I vaguely wondered who did it, seeing as how none of us were clean freaks- well, aside from Ericka that is, but she had certainly become lax in the last week she had been sick.

Fully dressed, I grabbed a brown paper bag and started to pack- Some clothes for both Ericka and Murphy, the weapons and ammo we had left in the place. Sudden inspiration struck me when I sat down on the couch for a moment- the chest that doubled as the coffee table. I had never bothered to look in there. I crouched down in front of it and lifted the lid. It was mostly paperwork and a huge stack of manila folders- I made a mental note to get Ericka a filing cabinet. _If she ever wakes up that is. _I pushed the thought away as I pawed through the mess, looking for, well, anything. My fingertips brushed a metal something. Cautiously, I pulled out whatever I was holding. The dog tags I held up glinted in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Her brother's tags and her own were linked together. I pocketed them, figuring that she would at least want the ones that had belonged to Erick.

I looked around the apartment and took one last long glance, knowing instinctively that I wasn't going to return. I closed the door with a sharp, final click and walked back to the car. I took the tags out of my pocket and hung them up on the rearview mirror. They swung back and forth like a pendulum as I drove back to the hospital. Just as I parked, the pager buried deep in my coat pocket started to beep. My stomach bottomed out; I wanted to vomit.

_Something's happened. Something's happened. _

I took the stairs and sprinted the four flights to the ICU, rounding the corners of the doorway and the nurses' station with a reckless abandon. I nearly knocked an old man on a walker over; I shouted a hasty apology over my shoulder, skidding to a halt in front of the glass window. Ericka wasn't there.

"Fuck!" I felt my hands shaking, my whole body cold.

_She's dead. She's gone. I wasn't there with her. Oh God….. _

"Conn! Connor!" A shorter man placed hands on my shoulders. "We've been trying to find you for the last hour, where in the hell-?" I recognized him as Smecker.

"Ericka's gone." My voice trembled. Smecker hushed me. "Calm down, shh. Calm down. It's alright-"

"No! It's not fucking alright!" Smecker sighed in frustration and started steering in a direction; I followed along, numbly, eyes burning. He opened a door and pushed me inside.

Murphy, Annie, and a random doctor were gathered around a bed. Murph caught sight of me and immediately grabbed the front of my shirt, pulling me towards the bed. "He's here, I told you he didn't leave."

"Conn?" came a very strained and weak voice. "You're here." I couldn't believe my ears or my eyes.

Ericka was lying there on the bed, looking pale and alarmingly thin, but alive. I broke into a fresh set of tears just looking at her, bending over bed side. "I thought you were….you were…."

She smiled weakly, reaching a hand out to touch my face. "You really think I would die that easy?" she whispered tiredly. "You could only get so lucky." I kissed her forehead, laughing a little.

_Lucky. Lucky indeed._


	23. Free Will

**Disclaimer- yada ya ya. **

**AN- For those who got around to reading "Incurable"...finally conquered the writer's block! =) And there isn't a whole lot of action in this chapter... but NEXT CHAPTER... there will be blood. **evil laugh** Don't forget to review! **

**Ericka POV**

I never thought I would die like that.

Lying there in Papa Joe's house, it all seemed so hopeless. I had shot Vito right between the eyes and started running through the house, looking for the boys, desperate to find them. In the middle of scanning rooms, I collided with a balding man who was wearing a gaudy gold ring. He elbowed me in hard in the stomach, pushing me hard into the wall. "Out of my way, puttana." He snarled as he hustled out of the house. I had a clear shot, I could have got him, but the pain in my stomach was agonizing. Like a million sharp needles were tearing at my insides.

The adrenaline rush ended as I got up and staggered down the hall. I heard shouts and yelling and a couple gunshots. My head swam and I fought the urge to totally lose my head- even though it seemed like the proper response to everything. Thoughts came at random. _Can't fucking think. Boys. Must find them. _

I lost my balance and swerved into a door. It opened and yet again I fell to the floor. I crawled out of direct sight. Everything hurt. Couldn't stop shivering because I was so cold. Or maybe I was hot. I couldn't tell the difference. My head hurt like hell.

_Was the wine poisoned? Fuck. Where are they? I need to find Connor…. Murph…_

"Ericka! ERICKA!" Shouts and loud footsteps came from the hallway. _I know that voice…_

Somehow, I managed to get off the floor and walk in a miraculously straight line to the hallway. Connor and Murphy and two other people I didn't recognize were running down the hall. "Boys?" I called out.

Connor ran towards me and pulled me into a hug. "The fuck are you doing here?" he asked. I wanted to hold onto him. Really, I did. But I could smell the blood and sweat coating him. It was overpowering, like a reminder of how close to death they had been. I couldn't stand it. "You were here." I pulled away, desperate to get away from the stench.

"I heard it through the vents in the bathroom… Roc's dead, I know. He was a good man." I wanted them to know that I knew what happened, that I was trying to get to them. It was imperative they understood that. I felt my body trembling.

Murphy pulled me into a rough hug. "You're fucking stupid sometimes, know that?" I didn't miss the way his voice caught as he spoke; the words 'know that' had a higher pitch to them. My senses were a jumbled mess, things standing out at random to me. I couldn't focus.

The old man cleared his throat. "We need to leave." His shades slipped down his nose. I caught a small glimpse of his eyes- blue and deep, like the ocean. I had seen them before.

"Yes, Da." I said, my head feeling light. They stared at me. "How did you know-" Connor asked.

"Got your eyes." I turned to walk away from the scene, to put it all behind me.

Something happened- like someone had snuffed a candle or hit me over the head. The pain that had been off and on all night overcame me and I felt myself crumpling to the ground. I heard frantic voices and felt myself being carried.

Felt cold air on my skin.

Heard someone say, "No, no, I can't just leave…"

Felt motion.

Felt nothing.

I opened my eyes and found myself in a dimly lit room. Murphy had a hold of my hand and his rosary. He was whispering in a language I didn't know. Prayer. I watched him as left myself get a grip. He looked so serious. It was strange, considering how playful he was.

There was something in my throat. I could feel it. Vaguely, I recognized my surroundings. _Hospital. Right. I work in one of those._

I flexed my fingers and Murphy looked up in alarm. His face broke into a relieved grin, all seriousness gone from his face. "Nice to see you've made it back to the realm of the living." And then he was up and moving. "Nurse! Hey! Annie! She's awake!"

Things happened fast from there. Or maybe I was in and out. I couldn't tell. I was moved from a room with several beds to another, more private one. The tubes were removed and apparently I was A-OK and alive. _Strange concept_. _Life._

I glanced at the people around my bed. Murphy, Annie, a man with a snarky face- who I later learned to be Smecker- and a doctor. Someone was missing. "Where's Connor?" I coughed, throat dry like a desert.

"He left." Said Murphy simply, like it was the most logical thing in the world. _Left means gone. _I felt a wave of panic hit me and I tried sitting up.

"Left?" I asked as Annie pushed me back down.

Murph looked flustered. "Left, like not left left. He just went to grab a shower and-"

"Left?" I asked again, not believing him. Murph got the message. "Someone page Connor, find out where the fuck he is. She's not gonna believe me until she sees him with her own eyes." Murphy knew me well, though the look on his face was nothing short of exasperated. I felt bad; Murphy wouldn't lie to me. _Well. Yes, he would- he was the one that drugged me. But why the hell isn't Connor here?_

Murphy took a hold of my hand, somehow knowing what I was thinking. "Connor is going to be all sorts of upset that he wasn't here. It'd the first time he's been away from you in three days." He smirked down at me. "Figures you would wake up without him here, ya jerk."

I smiled back weakly, settling into my pillow and trying hard to wait patiently. Maybe it took five minutes, maybe it was another hour- it felt like forever, so I really have no idea how long it actually was- but Connor walked into the room, led by Smecker. Murphy grabbed him by the shirt and all but shoved him to my bed. "He's here, I told you he didn't leave."

Connor looked shocked, like he had seen a ghost. "I thought you were…" his voice trailed off as he stared at me, tears streaming down his face. "You really think I would die that easy? You could only get so lucky." I reached out to him, just wanting him to stop with the uncharacteristic outpouring of emotion, just wanting things to go back to normal.

But normal wasn't in the cards for any of us. Normal would be too simple.

The next few weeks were hard on all of us. Rocco's death was put in the paper, along with the rest of the dead bodies found in Papa Joe's house. Thankfully, Rocco was cleared of any crimes or any possible relation to the Saints- at least his memory would be untarnished. Connor and Murphy looked as if they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders; the guilt was practically visible on them. They were both quiet that day.

The doctors who treated me put me through test after test, making sure I wasn't going to keel over and die. The meningitis diagnosis somehow didn't surprise me- the symptoms should have tipped me off. What did surprise me was when I found out I had been pregnant with twins.

Murphy had been the bearer of bad news. I guess everyone else knew about it, choosing to leave Connor and I in the dark. Or at least that was the impression I got. Connor was hit pretty hard by the news, though he put up a stone front, lapsing into silence for a few days. He never once said that he was sad or angry or anything. Then again, he didn't need to say it. I knew- We all knew he was nothing short of devastated.

In all honesty, I felt guilty for _not_ feeling as sad as I should have been. Don't get me wrong. I was upset at first when I first found out. Upset was an understatement. Angry. Livid. Furious that Papa Joe took two more lives aside from Rocco's that night. The sick thing was that he would never feel remorse for his actions- not until he was on his knees with a gun to his head.

But sad wasn't an emotion to show up on my radar. Did I want my kids to grow up with their entire family being killers? Did I want them to be familiar with guns and bullets, knives and rope? I didn't want any child to be exposed to that, much less my own flesh and blood. I prayed to God that he would be kind to the souls of my unknown babies, that he would give us a second chance in the future.

We deserved that much.

* * *

I lied in the uncomfortable hospital bed, counting the tiles on the ceiling for the millionth time. Doctors told me I had made a miraculous recovery and was able to leave in morning- after nearly three weeks of being poked and prodded and ogled at night and day, I was more than ready to go home. With that good bit of news, I forced Connor and Murphy to go out for the night.

"Guys. Get out of here. Go do something." I said, breaking the sleepy silence. Connor looked up from the TV, remote lying idly in his lap. Murphy raised an eyebrow at me from across the room, waving a hand at me. "Like….."

"Like go down to McGinty's and grab a beer. Go sleep. Go set something on fire- Something, anything. Just get the hell out of the hospital for a while." Connor opened his mouth to protest. "No." I said firmly, poking a finger into his chest. "Y'all look like zombies right now. Seriously. This whole moping around thing has got to go. Rocco would kill you guys. Hell, I want to kill you guys right now- you don't have to be here all the time. I'm not going to die." I aimed that last sentence at Connor, who had been almost intolerable with how much he had been around. At least Murphy would leave the room every once in a while. "Getting out this place will do you some good."

Connor's mouth quirked upward into the first semblance of a smile he had worn in weeks. "You can't _make_ us leave."

I felt my own mouth form a smirk. "Oh yes I can. Oi! Annie! Get in here!" I shouted. Annie, who had been conveniently walking by. peered into the room with irritated eyes.

"Ericka, as much as I love you guys, I don't have the desire to debate who the best James Bond was, I'm on my way out of here right now and-" I cut her off.

"Can you do me a favor and take them out tonight?" I asked, gesturing to the boys. "They're a little too lifeless for my liking."

Annie's irritation vanished immediately, breaking into a wicked grin. "Oh, sug, I would love to." Her eyes lingered on Murphy, whose own gaze darkened considerably. Awkward silence fell over us as they made lovey-dovey eyes at each other. Connor cleared his throat suggestively, a Cheshire cat grin lighting up his face.

"Say, Murph. When'd you become such a girlie girl?"

Murphy took the bait and pounced. Immediately they were brawling on the floor, spitting out insults in random languages. Annie cocked her head to the side. "Did we miss something?"

I shrugged, watching Connor fight his way out of a headlock. "Probably. I dunno. This is pretty common for them."

"Right…." Annie shook her head at them. "Whenever you two are done beating the shit out of each other, we'll go." They stopped fighting and straightened up at once. Murph grabbed his coat of a chair and crossed the room, pecking me on the cheek. "I swear to God if you leave this bed I'll murder ya myself." He threatened. I rolled my eyes at him as he backed out of the room, mock glaring at me.

Connor looked a little hesitant. "Are ya sure you'll be alright, love? I don't want to-"

"I'll be fine, Connor." I gave him a sharp look. "Go out and have some fun, alright? Shit's been rough for all of us, you guys deserve a night to relax."

"But-"

"Nope. No buts. Go. I'll see you later, I swear I'm not going anywhere."

I locked eyes with him, staring him down the way a hunter stares down it's prey. He finally caved, like I knew he would. "Alright, alright. Promise you'll get some rest, aingeal. For me?"

I smiled up at him. "Of course." He kissed me and walked out of the room, still looking unsure. I grinned to myself as I heard Murph's rambunctious voice from down the hall. Something told me between his brother and Annie, Connor was going to have one hell of a night.

There was a knock on the door a couple hours later. "Come in?" I said, glancing up at the clock. It was awfully late for someone to randomly come visit me. The door opened slowly and in walked Da MacManus.

"Hey, Da." I greeted, feeling immediately secure around the old man; He had the same sort of vibe that Connor carried.

"Hi, Ericka." He took his time coming in, shutting the door and sitting down in the chair by my bed. We sat in silence, watching the tv, neither of us saying anything.

"What brings you by here?" I asked after a some time had passed. "I assume this isn't a social call, or else you would've come by when the boys were here."

He nodded at me. "Yes, m'dear, you're quite right." He sighed and rubbed his eyes; the back of his hand had a tattoo of a butterfly. Apparently an eye for good ink ran in the family. "I want to offer some advice from an old man, if you're willing to listen."

I gestured for him to continue. He sat back in his chair and his face looked thoughtful behind the grey beard. "There was a man I knew who shared the same line of work. He got started in it early in life, out of bad circumstances, and it stuck with him. He had a double life, killing people on the side for money. Eventually, he met a woman and fell in love with her."

His eyes were distant. I got the distinct feeling this story was his own, though I wasn't about to call him out on it. If he didn't want to tell me outright, I figured there was a reason for it. "They married, and she got pregnant. They were….overjoyed. But he was set up right before his sons were born, sold out by the people he worked for, and thrown in jail. As a result, his wife was forced to raise two children on her own. He never got the chance to see her again- she died, very ill and alone."

I furrowed my brow at the old man. "So….what's the moral of that story?"I asked bluntly. When he didn't respond, I tried again. "What are you trying to get at, Noah?"

"Ericka, his wife lived a very thankless and lonely life. She gave up everything for him, even after she found out that he killed people. She _loved_ him. They _loved_ each other. But love isn't enough to save you or enough to even live for. It's fleeting and it can be found in other places, other people, you understand? It's not worth sacrificing everything for."

"I'm not sacrificing anything!" I glared at him, jaw and fists clenched tight.

"Oh really? What about your career? Your own dreams?"

"I can have a career anywhere! Dreams change-"

"What about your two unborn children? What would you call that?" he spat voice harsh. "If that's not a sacrifice, then I don't know what is." He had winged me; I had no response to that. He continued his onslaught. "The boys aren't going to stop. You know that. Even if they want to, they don't have a choice. It's for God to decide. They're working for something greater then themselves-"

"Sir, they _have_ a choice." I glared at him, tears filling my eyes. "My brother _had_ a choice when he gave up his life for a greater cause. I _have_ a choice in being with Connor. I know that God does not take away free will because he certainly _has not_ stripped it away from any of us!"

We remained in a stare down, neither one wanting to break.

"Erm, I'm not interrupting something am I?" We looked over to the door to find Connor standing in the doorway. He looked more confused than anything else, arms folded across his chest.

"No. No, I think we're finished here." I said, weighting my words so Da knew exactly what I meant. _No more talk of this absurd idea. I'm not leaving them. _

Da nodded once and stood up. As he went to leave the room he put a gloved hand on Connor's shoulder and squeezed, walking away silent. Connor raised an eyebrow at me. "What was he doing here?"

"Nothing." I lied. "Just making sure everything is okay." He gave me a searching look. _Damn him and his fucking intuition._

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe, face blank. I groaned, already regretting what I was about to tell him.

"Your Da came by to try and convince me to leave you." I wouldn't look at him. I didn't need to see the contemplative look his face, top watch him consider the possibility that maybe he didn't need me as much as he had thought. I felt an ache in my chest. _This is it…. _

"And…. Are you going to?" his voice was quiet, hollow. I looked back at up him. He kept his gaze fixed on the linoleum floor. "I understand if you want to. I won't try and make you stay."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You seriously think that after all of the shit we have been through since we met each other that I would want to just give up now? There's light at the end of the goddamned tunnel. I'm not leaving, not now. Not ever. Got it?"

Connor slowly looked at me and then gave me a weary smile. "Crystal clear."

He sat down on the bed next to me, silent for a while. I snuggled up next to him, enjoying the warmth of his body. "What the hell are you watching?" he squinted at the TV, suddenly focused. A furious battle was taking place in a courtroom, the two lawyers screaming at each other. It didn't look that interesting.

"Something lame." I said, grabbing the remote and changing the channel. "Joesph Yakevetta has been arrested once again, this time on a murder charge. He is to appear in court on…."

Something flashed through my head. "Where's Murphy? I asked suddenly. He did a double take from the TV to me, trying to figure out how the two thoughts were connected. "He's still at the bar with Annie. Why?"

"I have an idea…."


	24. Instrument

Disclaimer here: yadayayayaya

AN- This was a tough chapter to write. I don't think I did this particular scene justice, but I did the best I could. **awkward coughing** Anyway, we're down to one or two more chapters before this story is done! So review it up and enjoy! (And props to whoever can tell me what movie Murphy refers to...lol)

**Ericka POV**

The courtroom was packed to max capacity but it was deadly quiet. The tension and anticipation was thick, almost tangible. Many outraged citizens of Boston had flooded the courtroom, wanting to witness

Papa Joe's trial for themselves.

The media was having a field day; it was a circus as the members of the media dug up dirt on Yakavetta's past criminal actions (that he was able to get away with, thanks to top notch defense attorneys). It wasn't a matter of if he was guilty or not- it was a matter of whether or not he would get away with murder again. I stood at the very back of the press box with other the journalists, notepad and pen in hand, blending in. A reporter leaned down to whisper to my ear. "What's your take on things?" He asked, squinting at the back of Papa Joe's balding head.

I shrugged my shoulder, wanting to slap the smile off of his face. _He has no idea of how serious this shit actually is_. He gave a quiet laugh. "How can you not have an opinion?" he asked. The guy was really grading on my nerves.

"I'm a journalist." I said testily. "I'm not allowed to have an opinion on the news I write about."

He just wouldn't let it go. "C'mon now." He gave me what I took to be a playful look- it looked more like a condescending grimace to me. " It's not like you're obligated to print your opinion. What do you think?

Honestly? Is he gonna walk outta here, scot free again?"

It was my turn to give out a condescending look as the judge made his way to the stand, black robe billowing as he walked. "It doesn't matter what I think." I lowered my voice as the judge ordered for all to be quiet. "But I'm sure that in due time, he'll get what's coming for him."

_Due time indeed._

**Murphy POV**

Connor stared at the wall opposite of him, bottom lip between his teeth, fingers interlaced in his lap. I had never seen him so still- it was strange really. Even if he tended to be the calmer one of us, he still had boundless energy and was all over the place in the way people like- Charisma. My brother was charismatic and lively whereas I was the neurotic, moody twin.

Not that it really mattered in the end. We both had an equal amount of blood on our hands.

I heard voices outside of the van we were waiting in. "You ready?" I asked, fidgeting with my lighter.

He shrugged. "I suppose."

That answer wouldn't do for me. I needed something solid- a definite yes or no to hold onto. "We can back out now." I said quietly. "You know that, right?"

"Of course I know that."

I gave it a few more seconds before I let loose on him. "We don't have to fucking do him like this. There has to be another way of getting to him without exposing ourselves."

"I'm sure there's another way. But this gets the point across." His voice was soft, calculated, decided.

"Conn, do you realize we're gonna light the guy up in a fucking courthouse? In front of a huge crowd of people, where there are cameras and the press?" I bit back the question I wanted to ask: _Are you fucking insane?_

"If we follow the plan we'll be just fucking fine."

_Right. Ericka's plan that was pieced together from a movie. Yeah, my faith is really firm in this idea._

I didn't have time to argue some sense back into him. There was a knock on the van door- our cue to move. Connor slipped on his shades. "Are you coming with?"

Looking back, I wondered if he ever realized how stupid of a question that was. Of course I was coming with. I slipped my own shades on and muttered a line I had heard in a movie once, knowing Connor would appreciate it. "You jump, I jump."

**Connor POV**

Smecker let us into the courthouse through a side door. Da was waiting there with him and we walked through the metal detectors, throwing our duffels over the top of it. The place was creepily quiet; I could hear our footsteps echo off the walls. I felt the adrenaline flood my system as we took the stairs two at a time, rushing to the courtroom. The trial had to be underway already; we had to act fast before someone spotted us. It had to look odd; three men who appeared to have no business in a courthouse, roaming around, wearing black and carrying around heavily laden bags.

We stopped in a nearby hallway that was kitty corner to the courtroom's back door to take out our guns, account for all of our shit, gather ourselves- at least, that what I was doing. Murphy was focused, moving frantically yet fluidly. Da looked positively nonplused by what was going on, like this was an everyday occurrence. Then again, it probably was.

I felt my heart pounding somewhere in my throat, hands shaking a little. _Why the fuck am I losing it now? _That was a dumb question. I had no qualms with the _idea_ of waltzing into a courtroom and shooting a guy. In practice, it was a hell of a lot scarier than what I anticipated. Knowing that as soon as we walked in there, we were outted. I could only hope Ericka used her head and kept of this mess. She was posing as a reporter; it was the only way all of us could agree on her being present. I felt a lump form in my throat. Knowing that she was going to be there watching us kill somebody was more nerve wracking then the idea of a crowd of strangers watching. My stomach twinged uncomfortably.

Murphy looked up at me, giving me a dead stare. _We can still back out._ His words rang in my head. _There has to be another way. _

Another voice, much firmer and resolute sounded. _But we're already here. No backing out now. _

I nodded at him, giving my green light. He straightened up and looked to Da. He cleared his throat and motioned towards the door with his gun. "Ready when you are, boys."

"Right." I held tight to my gun, feeling the cold metal underneath my fingers. "On three." I glanced back at Murph. He gave me another nod and let out a deep breath, rolling his neck a little.

"One…. Two…"

**Ericka POV**

"I was with my mother. We were at the butcher because on Thursdays my mother makes meatloaf! Yeah?" Listening to Papa Joe talk made me crawl right out of my skin. The cocky son of bitch was really hamming it up for the audience. The same guy that had talked me up earlier leaned over to talk one of the male journalists. "Look at him. He doesn't have a care in the world."

"He's gonna walk, even with all the evidence against him."

I stopped listening to them and turned my eyes to my watch. _Anytime now boys. C'mon now…._

A door slammed open and in rushed Connor and Murphy, Da right behind them. Connor jumped right into the press box as people started to register the guns in their hands, people screaming at the top of their lungs.

Da ushered people to the back, commanding them. I could appreciate how old he was then; he looked like God himself- Except God didn't walk into courtrooms wielding a gun. He had the boys to do that for him. "Shut off the fucking camera! Shut it off now!" he ordered loudly.

Murphy dragged Papa Joe from the stand to the very front of the room, holding him by the collar of his designer label suit. It killed me; even with a gun pressed to his back, Yakavetta still looked smug. Murphy's face was full of rage as he stared at him. I could tell it was taking immense self control to not shoot him right then and there. "On your fucking knees!" he yelled at him. Yakavetta sunk hesitantly, like he was debating whether or not Murphy's gun was loaded with real bullets or blanks.

Connor caught my gaze and held it for a split second, long enough to convey the message of _Stay the fuck back_.I wasn't about to challenge him, not with that angered, almost crazed look in his eyes. He turned to the guards. "Drop your weapons! Drop them now, one by one! Drop them!" The portly guard that was standing on the balcony above the courtroom slowly flung his and his partner's gun over the railing, backing away with their hands up. Satisfied, Connor took his place next to Murphy, looking as outraged as his brother. Da dragged the judge away from the stand. He threw a fit, fighting to get away. "What the- where are you taking me?" Da simply flung him to the back, with all of the other spectators. The irony wasn't lost on me; enforcer of the law, helpless and at the hands of someone else.

Da stood at the front of the room, holding up his gun. "You people have been chosen to reveal our existence to the world! You will witness what happens here today, and you will tell of it later." He paused, looking as menacing as I had ever seen him. "All eyes to the front." He spat.

Yakavetta looked towards some of his people. "Now's a good fucking time to-" Murphy kicked him midsentence, knocking him the floor. "Shut your fucking mouth!" Yelled Connor as Murphy haul him back up to his knees.

A red headed girl was crying in the front. Da's face softened as he walked over to her, lifting up her face with his hand. "You must watch dear." He said softly. "It'll all be over soon." The muted sounds of a fire alarm reached my ears; the place would soon be empty of people besides us in the courtroom. The outside would be a different story. _They have to do this soon. Before long the place is going to be just crawling with cops and the fire department. _My hands shook a little.

The reporter that had been talking to people put a hand on my arm. "It's alright, sweetheart." He said soothingly. I couldn't take the guy anymore, even in light of the circumstances. Or maybe it was the circumstances that compelled me to pull my arm back and deck him right in the teeth. "Fuck. Off." I growled.

"You bitch!" he swore at me, looking to take a swing of his own. I saw Murph flinch a little, hardly looking up. Connor apparently didn't have the same amount of self control Murph did. He pointed his gun at the guy. "Watch your fucking mouth or you're next." He yelled. The guy settled down at once, giving me a very disturbed look.

The boys left Yakavetta and jumped up on the desk meant for attorneys and their clients to sit at during trial. It was…scary to watch them move, the anger and the hate palpable. If I didn't know them, I would've thought the very worst of them. This wasn't part of plan though. This was totally made up, on the spot. Even Da looked wary of them. After a long moment of tense silence, Connor was the first to speak.

"Now you will receive us!"

"We do not ask for your poor, or your hungry." Murphy's eyes were cold and unwelcoming, unlike the ones I had come to know so well. He wasn't fidgeting. On the contrary, his movements were seemingly precise and calculated. It made my stomach turn a little.

"We do not want your tired and sick."

"It is your corrupt we claim."

"It is your evil that will be sought by us."

"With every breath we shall hunt them down."

"Each day, we will spill their blood till it rains down from the skies." Connor's voice was dark, threatening, the Irish brogue coming out thick. It was almost surreal watching them, like they were bantering back and forth, like they were speaking from a script. Shivers ran up my spine. For the first time since I had met them, I could see my boys as cold blooded killers. It scared me.

"Do not kill. Do not rape. Do not steal. These are principles which every man of every faith can embrace!" Murphy had the faintest ghost of a smirk on his face, as if he couldn't believe he actually had to be telling people this.

"These are not polite suggestions! These are codes of behavior and those of you that ignore them will pay the dearest cost."

"There are varying degrees of evil. We urge you lesser forms of filth not to push the bounds and cross over. Into true corruption. Into our domain."

"For if you do, one day you will look behind you and you will see we three. And on that day, you will reap it!" Connor's voice echoed off the walls. A few people covered their ears.

"And we will send you to whatever god you wish." Murphy finished, looking darkly amused by the whole thing.

They looked around the courtroom, locking eyes with every single person before jumping off the desks and taking their places behind Yakavetta. "And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand-"

"_Vaffanculo!_" Vakavetta yelled, voice breaking. I felt my lips pull up in grim satisfaction, glad that he was feeling some panic, some terror. If he was a religious man at all, I sincerely hoped he was praying, begging God, though it was far too late for absolution.

They continued to pray over his panicked swearing, not missing a beat."-That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be." They pulled back the hammers on their guns, three clicks sounding at once.

"In nomine Patri."

"Et filli."

"Spiritus Sancti."

I shut my eyes as I heard the sound of muted gunfire, and the spell that had been cast over everyone in the courtroom was broken. People started screaming again and rushing for the back doors. I opened up my eyes and glanced around. The boys were gone as suddenly as they came. I swallowed as a saw the body of Yakavetta, pennies places on his eyes. I had worked in the medical field since I was eighteen; I had seen some sick shit…but nothing like that. Knowing that my boys had done it made it hard to stomach. I felt bile rising in my throat as I turned to join the mob running out of the courtroom. _Stick to the plan, Ericka. Don't lose your head. Find Smecker. Find him now._

**Murphy POV**

Da yelled at us as soon as we had made it to our car, parked several blocks away. "The fuck were you thinking boys! We lost some valuable time, we could've been out of there faster if you two hadn't gone off on a fucking tangent! Have you lost your goddamned minds?"

Connor lit up a cigarette with trembling hands. "People will at least make a fucking effort to watch their behavior now, question if it's moral or not!"

I lit my own cigarette, trying hard to shake the feeling. It was much like the same feeling I had felt- _we _had felt- the night we spent in a holding cell, after the Russians came to kill us. The words…. I don't even know where those came from. It was like someone had planted a script in my head and I had to deliver the lines given. _A calling card from God, through us to the masses. _

_Truly, we are instruments of God. _

"And you! What the hell was that, yelling at that man like that? You could've outted Ericka, probably have!" The wail of police sirens passed us, surely heading straight for the courthouse. This only seemed to make the argument between Connor and Da that much more heated, fear fueling it further.

"She'll be fine!" Connor yelled back.

"She would've been fine if you had just left well enough alone!"

"Shut the fuck up! Both of you!" Da looked at me through the rearview mirror, eyes burning. Connor looked just as pissed off. "Look, what's done is done. We need to get as far as we can from here as fast as we can, wait for Smecker to page us, and then we go from there. No sense in screaming at each other." They both surprisingly grunted their agreement and lapsed into a strained silence.

Connor leaned back, eyes closed, fingers knotted in his hair; He was taking to that particular habit more and more often. Da's hands were white on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road. I lied back on the floor of the van, feeling every single bump and rock in the road.

It was going to be a very long night.


	25. Caterpillar

Disclaimer: blah blah blah

AN- This chapter is mainly for my benefit! I wrote it randomly, not really sure where I was going with the story or if i was going to use it at all (tying up loose ends can be a real hassle when you have a million of them.) Anyway, take this update as my Christmas present to you wonderful readers. =} (And the next chapter should be up in a day or so... so keep your eyes peeled!)

**Annie POV**

The interrogation room was exactly like in the movies: Harsh fluorescent lighting, a table and two chairs, and gray walls. Agent Smith glared at me from across the table, sweat glistening on his forehead. "Where are the MacManus brothers?" asked the agent for the hundredth time. I held in the sigh I wanted to exhale- he had asked me the same set of questions at least ten times, and my answers hadn't changed. My mind was fried, however. _How in the fuck I manage to get into these situations is beyond me. _Somehow, probably due to my notorious bad luck, I was in the custody of the FBI not even a full two hours after they had apparently fled- All because I was known to have had limited contact with Murphy and Connor. _If this is how the Feds treat me, imagine how they're treating Ericka. _Well, assuming they managed to get their hands on her, that is. I wasn't too sure, but I had a feeling she was nothing short of a fucking ninja- she could get out of almost anything and vanish at the drop of a hat.

_Fucking convenient for her, isn't it?_

I could kill the girl, I really could. It was _her_ idea for the brothers to off Papa Joe in the courthouse. Not that I knew of the plan beforehand. All they told me the night before was that it was _her_ idea. Of course, they _didn't_ have to actually take that suggestion seriously. _Fucking idiots. If I ever see any one of them ever again, I will beat the ever-loving shit out of them. _

I turned my attention back to the disgruntled agent in front of me. He had overgrown eyebrows; they reminded me of hairy caterpillars. I felt my lips twitch involuntarily as he raised his eyebrows at me- the caterpillars were wriggling. Or maybe they were dancing. _Can caterpillars dance? Wonder how they feel about the tango..._. "Young lady, this is not a laughing matter, so I would suggest you wipe that smirk off your face fast."

"Look, Agent Smith, I will answer your questions. One. Last. Time." I punctuated the last words in irritation. "And then I would like to either be charged with a crime or released, because this is a giant load of horseshit."

"Are you saying you have committed a crime?" He puffed his chest out; apparently he was proud that he backed me into a corner.

_Time to fix this fucker's little red wagon._

"No I haven't, but y'all seem to think I have, or else you wouldn't have kept me in one of your fancy interrogation rooms for ten hours straight. So please, do enlighten me as to what my crime is, _Special_ Agent Smith." I spat. He looked surprised.

"You're accused of harboring the MacManus brothers, which, as I'm sure you know, that harboring a fugitive is a felony."

"Well, you can search my place. You'll find their fingerprints there, but that doesn't mean I've been harboring them."

"Yes it does."

"Actually, no, it doesn't. What it means is that yes, they were in my place at one time. In order for it be considered harboring, I would've had to have had prior knowledge of their crimes, which I had none, not until you told me."

I'm a girl of many talents. One of them is being an exceptionally good liar.

I folded my arms over my chest. "So, ask me the damn question again, and when my answers don't change, tell me what you're going to charge me with. Please. Don't leave me in anticipation."

He cleared his throat. "Do you have knowledge of the MacManus brothers' whereabouts?"

"No." Honest answer. I had no idea where they were, or where they were going.

"When is the last time you saw them?"

"I saw them last night. We met up at a bar and talked over drinks."

Smith's left eye twitched. "And what did you talk about?"

"Well, they mentioned nothing about rushing into a courthouse and executing Yakavetta. What they did tell me was that they were leaving town and heading south, towards Texas or New Mexico. Something to do with better weather and better jobs." I lied smoothly.

"Where's Ericka Engel?"

This question renewed my hope a little. _They don't have her. _Whatever her plan was, it had worked thus far. "I have no idea." I shrugged.

"You two were close, were you not?"

"We were coworkers." I said shortly. "We'd get a drink after work every once in a while, but when you're a nurse, you have little time for a social life."

"Did you know Ericka was dating Connor?"

"Of course. We all knew, they were the perfect couple. But," I weighed my words carefully. "After Ericka had a miscarriage, there was a rift between them. There are some things you can't come back from. They split about a month ago." This, too, was a lie. Their relationship was as strong as ever. Unless I had totally missed something, but I sincerely doubted it. Useful talent number two- the ability to read people like a book.

"And what about you and Murphy?"

I groaned aloud, getting tired of the redundant questions. "We were just friends, we never slept together or dated or nothing. Like I told you the last ten times you asked me."_Lie. Big fat lie. _We had slept together once- and it was by far the best drunken-sex I had ever had. But the Feds really didn't need to know the details of what I did in the bedroom."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Look, my answers are not going to change. So charge me or let me leave."

Smith opened his mouth when a door swung open. Agent Smecker walked- no, he _strutted _into the room. "You're free to go, Ms. Anderson."

Smith's eyes seemed to bulge out of his skull. "What the fuck?" he yelled, literally blue in the face. _A blue caterpillar. Interesting. _

"She has had no connection to the murders the boys have committed. Therefore, we have no reason to keep her." He smiled down at me. "Allow me to escort to you, ma'am." I stood up and smiled back. "That would be kind of you, good sir." As we walked out of the room, I couldn't resist the urge to turn back to Smith one last time. "And thank you Agent Smith for the _stimulating_ conversation we had today."

Smecker chuckled under his breath as we walked down the hallway. "You really have quite the silver tongue there." I narrowed my eyes at him.

"So...where is she?"

He smiled serenely. "Ericka Engel has agreed to help me with a special project of mine."

_Whatever the fuck that means. _

"And the boys?" I asked impatiently.

"Hiding out. And thanks to your information, we'll have people scouting the southern United States for them." He raised his voice as another agent in a suit passes by us, looking focused more on his steaming mug of coffee then his surroundings.

"Right…." I took in a deep breath, attempting to rid myself of my annoyance. "Are they done for good?"

Smecker took a good minute to reply. "As far as I know, yes." He said finally. "But stranger things have happened."

We stopped at a set of glass doors that led to the outside parking lot. "Well, Annie, there is a car waiting for you right outside here. I just have one last thing to ask you."

I raised my eyebrows. "Okay?"

"What is the one name you absolutely hate?"

I looked at him. "What kind of question is that?"

"Just answer the question."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Eunice." I said. "I used to have a step mother with that name. Vile woman." I shuddered. "Is there a reason you're asking me this? Like, is this the first in a series of questions that eventually lead to the real question you want to ask? Because that reminds me a lot of bad sex. And I'm really not a fan of that. I don't think anybody is."

He rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet, hands buried deep in his pockets. Actually, he looked pretty cute whenever he broke out a snarky look. Too bad he was blatantly gay. It seemed to add to my theory of all the good men being taken or gay. _Or criminals_._ Damn Murphy. _ I thought wistfully._ If only you didn't kill people. _I shook my head a little, focusing my attention on Smecker again.

"Just curious.'" He said simply, opening the door for me. "I'll be seeing you, Annie." He said.

I nodded at him. "Goodbye, Agent Smecker." I said, walking outside to the car. I climbed into the shiny black automobile, hoping to high heaven it was the last time I saw the agent.

But, knowing my luck, it wouldn't be.


	26. Woe

Disclaimer- not mine. 'nuff said.

AN- Sooooooooooooo we've got one more chapter after this and we're done! Read and enjoy and pretty please review! :)

**Connor POV**

We spent two months driving up and down the east coast, never staying in one place for more than a night. I didn't sleep much and I know for a fact Murphy didn't; he tended to walk around with that dazed look all sleep deprived people have. We both had lost a lot of weight because of the constant stress and never eating (who has time to eat when you're running from the feds?) Neither one of us had shaved in attempt to better conceal our identities when we had to be around people. Murph didn't seem to mind much, seeing as how he had had a scruffy look most of his life anyways. Personally, having a beard was driving me absolutely _insane_, but it was one of those things I just had to live with.

Like fear. I sure as hell had been living with a shitload of that since before we even walked into that courthouse. Of course, there was the fear of being caught by police, fear of being struck down by God himself, and the fear of running out of cigarettes- Lord only knows how many packs we collectively went through. But the fear of the future was more overwhelming than anything else. Two months -_two fucking months-_ on the road, and there was little indication that we were going to make it to Ireland anytime soon.

Ericka's whereabouts were still a mystery to me. I hadn't seen her since the morning of the courthouse and to be honest, she was the last thing on my mind at the time. Now, the what ifs and worries and regrets were constantly in my head; I was pretty sure I had some sort of brain tumor forming from sheer worry. The worst part was that Smecker refused to tell us where she was and to "Have a little faith" in him. I scoffed at the notion. Faith. Another word for foolishness if you ask me.

Murph tried his best to keep me in check. "I know ya miss her and ya miss home." He told me out of the blue one day when we were driving, somewhere between New York and Maine or maybe Rhode Island- I really never knew where exactly we were at a given time. I was shocked he was talking- we rarely spoke unless it was necessary. When you're stuck in a car for roughly thirteen hours a day, there isn't much to converse about. "You've got to hold out a little longer. You didn't really expect it'd be straight shot there, did ya?" I turned towards the windows, leaving him to drive with the crackling radio for company.

His question had hit a nerve._"You didn't really expect it'd be straight shot there, did ya?"_ Actually, yes, I did. I had been under the impression (or maybe it was wishful thinking. Hell if I know….) that we were going straight to Ireland after the trial. After I learned differently, I thought it would only be a few days at the most. But two months of nonstop driving and cheap motels?

I wasn't sure how much more I could handle.

I sprawled out on my bed in our motel room for the night. It was cleaner than most of the places we had stayed out, and there was the advantage of being able to smoke in the room. _Thank God for the simple things. _

Murphy flipped through the tv channels without much interest. Finally he shut the damn thing off and started pacing the room. "I'd kill for a Guinness right now. Fuck, even a Coors and that shit's like water…." He muttered, probably not even aware that he had spoken aloud.

"Aye, me too." He shrugged a shoulder in response, as if to say _Oh well_. It was….weird to see Murphy so calm. I mean, he still fidgeted and twitched, still paced and chewed on his fingernails…. But for the most part, he was quiet. He hadn't cracked a joke or a smile in weeks. It was really starting to bug me.

There was liquor store down the road from the motel. An idea formed in my brain. "Feel up to a beer run?"

Murphy stopped his pacing for a moment. "No, Connor. That's a retarded idea."

_Murphy? The voice of reason? What in the fuck? Hell must have frozen over._

"C'mon." I chided. "Thought you were the spontaneous one of us."

I breathed a sigh of relief as he rounded on me. _A reaction. That's good_. "Are ya fucking stupid? We're two of the most wanted people in the states right now, and you feel like waltzing into a liquor store? I mean, really? Are ya mental or something?"

"Point proven. You win." I said clenching my jaw, knowing damn well he was right. I rolled over onto my stomach and buried my face into the pillow, trying hard to ignore the strange smell it had. I heard Murphy sit down on the bed across from mine, bed springs creaking loudly.

"Connor. Sit up." He commanded. I threw my arms over my ears, signaling I wasn't in the mood to talk. I felt my arm being tugged away from my head.

"Get up, Connor!"

"Get the fuck off me!"

Knuckles to the side of my face and a knee to the back. Ouch. Murphy really meant business here."Okay! Fine! I'll fucking listen, just get the hell off of me!"

I heard him snort. "Nope. I'm staying right here." He twisted my arm behind my back forcefully. I winced as I felt a muscle protest under the strain. "Seriously, Murph-"

"You're gonna fucking listen to me, because I'm getting really tired of this moping around, woe-is-me shit! We _knew_ all of this was going to be awful and tiring and bloody and the worst thing we would ever do. And we _knew_ that we'd be on the run for a while. But for God's sakes, you know as well as I fucking do that God wouldn't have fucking picked us if we couldn't handle it. Now, put on your big boy pants, suck it up and fucking deal with it. Got me?"

A few seconds of silence passed before I broke out into laughter. "Big boy pants? What the hell, Murph?"

"Aw, shut the fuck up." He rolled off of me and plopped onto the bed, the mattress dipping a little to his weight. "Ericka said it to me once, it seemed appropriate somehow."

I sat up, still chuckling. "Think Roc would have liked the bit about 'woe is me,' sounds like something" that would come out of his mouth."

Murphy's lips curved upward. "Must be channeling the spirit of our favorite Italian, eh?" He sighed and rubbed his eyes, the grin on his face fading as quick as it came. "Sorry for going off on ya." He muttered, eyes looking a little glassy and bruised from lack of sleep.

"Nah…you're right. I needed to hear that." He snorted and reached for the pack of smokes lying on my bed. "Where do you think Da is?" I asked. We had separated from Da after a week on the road, hoping to take a little heat off of us. The cops were looking for three guys, not two.

"As far as I know, he was on his way back to Ireland. So probably at Ma's by now." He lit and took a contemplative drag. "Twenty seven years. I can't imagine that." He said quietly.

"Hey Murph? Why do you think Smecker won't tell us where Ericka is?"

He pulled a face. "Well, I didn't tell you because it wasn't really important at the time. But…. Smecker is her brother."

_Whoosh!_ His words went right over my head. "Come again?"

"Smecker is her brother. He's the one named Phillip that she thought had died in a shootout. Turns out he's been in witness protection all these years. I don't know the details, he let it slip the night Roc died." It was strange hearing him say that Rocco was dead. He had never really acknowledged it out loud before, always skating around the topic or inferring it. He shrugged. "I'm sure she's fine, Conn. He'll look out for her."

I lit up my own cigarette, not knowing what to say. There really wasn't much to say.

The pager started beeping. We both jumped up and started to dig around for it. "Where the fuck is it?"

"I don't fucking know! You had it last." Said Murphy, tearing through a bag.

Oh yeah. It was in my coat pocket. I fished it out and dove for the stained motel phone, dialing the number on the pager's screen. Murphy crouched down next to me, holding his ear close to the receiver. Smecker's voice greeted us, sounding as snarky and pompous as ever. I was surprised to hear someone actually talking to us, instead of a thirty second message like what we had been getting.

"How are we holding up, gentleman?"

"Pretty shitty." I said flatly.

Murphy gnawed on his thumbnail. "Yeah, tell us something good, man."

He chuckled. "You need to be at the New York harbor in three days. I'll have someone waiting for you there, and from there you'll hop on a ship and be home free."

Murphy let out a rather loud yelp. "Yeah man! That's what I like to fucking hear!"

"I figured as much." Retorted Smecker.

"Who's meeting us there? Anyone we know?"

"Of course. I wouldn't leave you with strangers." I heard him grinning through the phone line. "This will be the last you hear from me- hopefully we never have to speak to each other again. Not that I don't enjoy your company, but…..you two don't do any favors for my reputation."

"That's a damn shame." I said. "I know Murphy here thinks the world of ya…Oi! Ya fucker!" Murphy threw a sharp elbow into my side. Okay. Gay joke. I deserved it.

"Is that so?" I had sudden mental image of Smecker putting his hands on his hips. "Because I have a source that says otherwise…." Murphy looked up at me innocently.

"You told me ya didn't fuck her!"

"Well. I lied." He said simply, beaming with manly pride. He tugged the phone closer to him. "Tell Annie I said hello, well ya? I actually miss the girl."

"Well, that girl misses the hell outta you. She wouldn't shut the fuck up about you the whole time-" There was a loud _smack_ sound- it sounded painful. "Ow! Phil? What the fuck was that for?" That voice sounded awfully, achingly familiar.

"Ericka?" I asked cautiously.

"Yep." I felt a wide smile creep across my face. "_Aingeal._ How are you? I miss you."

"I miss you too, Conn."

"What? You don't miss me? You bitch!" Murphy cut in playfully.

"Oh yes, Murphy. I miss you too." He grinned widely as I nudged him in the ribs. "Good enough for me."

"Anyways, _boys._" Said Smecker, cutting in. I heard Ericka cursing at him in German; apparently he had tugged the phone away. "New York Harbor. Three days. Be on the lookout." He paused. "It's been a real pleasure working with you two." The phone clicked before we had a chance to say good bye. I put the phone back on the table and stretched out on the bed. Murphy jumped up as if he had been shocked with a jolt of electricity; hurriedly he grabbed his coat and started for the door.

"The fuck are you goin?" I asked.

He stared at me like I was the world's biggest dumbass from the door frame "The fuck you think?" he pulled on his coat forcefully, face lit up by the boyish grin on his face. "Going on a beer run."


	27. Black Box

Disclaimer- not mine, etc, etc

**AN- Soooooo... this is it! Thank you guys for reading and reviewing and sticking with me throughout this. I appreciate it, you have no idea. I'm actually sad that this is finally coming to a close. **tears** Anyways, enjoy this last chapter and don't forget to review pretty please!**

**Ericka POV**

Ireland was a lot greener and cloudier than I had imagined it. I sat on the porch of the MacManus's house, breathing in the salty, chilly air of the morning, still woozy from jetlag. I had made it into the country in the dead of night, Da picking me from the airport and driving me back to the house.

I smiled to myself, noting that sunrises over the Irish countryside were much more beautiful than the ones in Boston. _This feels like home. _

I felt a ceramic cup being pushed into my hands. I looked up and was greeted by a bright and lively woman who had the faintest trace of red hair. "Thank you, ma'am." I said, realizing with a jolt I didn't know her name.

"Call me Ma, none of that ma'am business." Said the women. "From what I hear you're all but married to my boys."

_Whoa, whoa. Did she just- wait, what? _

"I, um, I'm not with _both_ of them." I tried to clarify, terrified she thought there was some weird thing going on between all three of us. _Disturbing._

She snorted at me. "If you're with one, you're with both of them. Sorry to tell ya, lass. It's polyandry, 'cept you're only sleeping with one of 'em."

My mouth was a wide round 'o' of shock. Ma raised her eyebrows at me. "You'll hear much worse coming outta my mouth, I can promise you that. Now drink that coffee before it gets cold." I obeyed immediately, sipping the hot liquid. Ma sat down with her own coffee, looking out into the hills serenely.

"So tell me about yourself, Ericka."

"Um….there isn't much to tell really." I shrugged a shoulder.

"I doubt that. My Connor never chased after boring girls." She grinned at me suddenly; I was reminded instantaneously of Murphy when he was up to no good.

I laughed nervously. "I used to work as a nurse. I speak German." I searched around for another fact I could give her without having to delve deep into some long back story. "I can't cook."

"Me either. The trick is acting like ya know exactly what you're doing and praying to God that whatever you're making turns out halfway decent. Most of the time, men don't notice the difference. " I smiled a little, not really sure what reaction was appropriate. I was never good at meeting the parents because, well, I never actually met the parents of any guy I dated. I looked back out at the countryside, squinting against the sun. Ma's eyes were on me, I could feel them. She was sizing me up, making sure I was indeed fit for her son. It made me a little uncomfortable. I didn't know what to say to the woman; it was a little daunting to be doing the 'meet the parents' thing without Connor right next to me, like I had imagined.

"I hope you aren't normally this wound up. You'll have a hard time fitting into this family," I looked back over at Ma. "No need to be nervous, dear."

"I'm not nervous…" I mumbled, bringing my arms closer to me, grip tightening on my coffee cup. She shook her head at me, laughing. "And you're a shitty liar too. Jesus, what the hell was my boy thinking, picking up the meekest girl he could find."

And before I could process my thoughts, I was spitting venom at the woman. "How dare you insinuate that I'm some meek and mild, delicate little flower! You hardly know me!"

Ma was positively roaring with laughter at this point, apparently delighted she got the desired reaction. I stared at her blankly, not seeing what was so funny in the situation. "Yes, yes, real funny, Ma." I said through clenched teeth.

"Ah, I've got to tell the boys to get ya a sense of humor." She said, wiping her eyes. "Just messin' with ya, I was scared shitless the first time I met Noah's family."

_Oh. I feel like a real ass now. _"I, uh, I'm sorry. It's just the jet lag and uh-"

"No! Don't be sorry at all. It's a real treat for me; S'not often somebody gets all intimidated by me. Everybody knows my antics by now."

"I'm not intimidated-"

"Oh yes you are, sweetie. Don't lie to me, you'll never get away with it." She said, standing up. "Now c'mon in the house, I'll show you the boys when they were young and still somewhat innocent.." I followed her into the tiny two story house, the floorboards creaking as we walked. She went over to a bookshelf and pulled out a thin leather bound book and handed it to me. "Go sit down, I've to go make a phone call really fast. Somehow it's become my job to get Noah's brother out of bed every morning for the last ten years." She shook her head. "The things I do, I swear…."I grinned as the old women walked out of the room. It was pretty obvious Murphy took after his mother.

I flipped through the book, smiling at the slightly faded Polaroid's. One of the first pictures was of Connor and Murphy, maybe five or six years old, peeking out from a fort they had built from pillows and couch cushions. There was one of them around the age of thirteen, both sporting wicked black eyes and devilish grins. It was interesting to see my boys before I had met them; it gave me a real sense of just how close they were to each other. There was hardly a photo where both of them weren't in it. I kept flipping through the pages, smiling faces jumping out at me. There was one of Connor, passed out on a porch swing with a hound dog laying right on top of him. Right next to it was one of Murphy, looking deeply engrossed in whatever it he was drawing, totally oblivious to the camera. The last page had a single photo; the twins standing shoulder to shoulder on the docks of some pier, wearing their pea coats and looking as excited as could be.

"That was the last picture I got of them before they went over to America. "Said Ma, sitting down next to me."They worked their fucking asses off to get there, never asked for a single penny from me or from any body else. Gave 'em those coats as a going away gift." I heard the pride in her voice. "I didn't have much money but I made sure that they at least had those."

I smiled fondly, recalling how many times I had borrowed one of their coats when I was in hurry They were warmer then hell. "Damn good gift on your part, they still wear them."

She beamed at me, looking back at the picture. "They never stood a chance you know. Corrupted the second they came out, those two were. Ten hours of labor, ah, I tell ya, it was hell."

"Say, Ma. Who was born first?"

She gave me a funny look. "Why do ya ask?"

"Well they sort of fight about who is the oldest." I smirk. "I'd like to hold it over their heads, it'd drive 'em nuts if I taunted them."

Ma's face lit up. "They still fucking fight over it? Twenty seven years! You'd think they have given up by now!" She looked around conspiratorially, as if the boys were in the next room listening. "Alright, I'll tell you which one is older. But you've got to promise you'll keep your trap shut. Someone's got to carry on the family secret."

"I promise, Ma." I said solemnly.

"The the oldest one," she paused dramatically. I leaned forward, on the edge of my seat. This was the moment of truth…..

"Ma! Ma! Where are you!" A voice interrupted her. I swore under my breath. _Damnit! _

"Murphy? Is that you?" called out Ma, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Footsteps came through the kitchen, shuffled and arrhythmic. A man with a beard and a black coat came around the corner, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. If it weren't for the tattoo on his hand, I wouldn't have known it was Murphy. "Seven fucking years since I've seen you, my God!" Ma jumped up and ran at him, nearly tackling him to the floor. "Hullo, Ma." He mumbled, hugging the woman carefully, like she was made of glass. She took step back from him, and looked him over. "Lord's name, Murphy. You're nothing but skin and bones." He chuckled. "Turns out me and Conn can't fend for ourselves, eh? Speaking of, where in the fuck-" he glanced up and caught me out of the corner of his eye.

"Ericka!" he stepped away from his mother and roughly pulled me into a hug. "Thank God, Conn's been going nuts without you." He let go and took a hold of my shoulders. "You don't know what it's been like, with him fucking whining and moping and shit. Dear God." He grinned and ruffled my hair. "Oh, and it's good to see you."

"Haha. You sound very sincere there, Murph." I said rolling my eyes. He punched me lightly in the arm before walking to the back of the house. "Conn! Get in here!" his voice echoed off the walls of the house.

Ma gave me another appraising look. "Why in God's name is he so damn thin? I thought you took better care of them?" I shrugged. "What can I say? Rocco did all the cooking."

"Who the fuck is Rocco?" she asked exasperated. "Don't tell me my boy is gay!" She had a look of faux outrage on her face; probably because she knew as well as any of us that Murphy was the very opposite of gay.

"What's all the yelling for?" I heard a voice I knew all too well. Connor popped his head around the corner. The look on his face changed from exasperated to happy in a split second. "Ma!" he walked over to her and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek, holding her in the same manner Murphy had. "Jesus Christ, both of ya are thinner than a fucking rail." She gave him a slightly sour look before patting his arm. "Oh well, it's great ta have ya both home."

"It's good to be home." He looked around the living room, looking a little shocked. "Good God. It all looks the same as when we left."

"Well, your Ma is resistant to change." She shrugged a shoulder. Murphy came up behind Connor and whacked him in the back of his head.

"What the fuck?"

"Look who's gay now!"

"The hell are you talking about?" Connor asked, look genuinely confused. I held in a laugh, savoring the moment. _Connor? Confused? Never thought I would see the day_.

"While you're busy appraising the decor, your woman is just standing there." He furrowed his brow, looking in the direction Murph was pointing at. Dawning comprehension appeared across his face.

"Hey stranger." I grinned at him. He grinned right back, crossing the gap between us in three long steps. That had to be the best damn hug I had ever received. Ever. "I fucking missed you, Conn."

"I chaill tú ró, aingeal." I heard him mumble in my hair, squeezing tightly. I didn't understand Gaelic, but I understood it to mean, "I missed you too, angel."A few moments passed before he broke away suddenly. "I got you something." He said, looking anxiously at me.

"Uh….. you did?" I said dumbly. He dug around in his coat pocket, pulling out a small black box. "Oh you've got to be kidding me." I said aloud. I heard both Ma and Murphy laughing at me. I felt a cold chill pass through me. Since birth, girls are taught to covet and dream of the day when the perfect man swoops down from the heavens and proposes to them. I hadn't even thought of a getting a ring or even the actual wedding- which God forbid the day I had to plan for that, I had no idea on what the hell to do for one of those damn horse and pony shows.

The small black box was my nemesis.

Connor rubbed the back of his neck, holding the box tightly in his left hand. "I know it's clichéd and all that, but please? Let me do it right?" His eyes were wide, pleading. I nodded at him, legs shaky. He dropped to one knee and opened the small box to me. "Ericka Elizabeth Engel. Will you marry me?" As corny and cheese-tastic and obviously borrowed from a movie as it was, I felt….giddy. _Fucking weird. _"Yes! Yes, of course I'll marry you!" I shouted. He jumped up from the floor and hugged me again, planting tiny little kisses all over my face.

There was a loud and suggestive cough from the other side of the room. Murphy stood with his hand over his mouth, unable to fully contain himself as he quaked with laughter. Ma looked like she wanted to clock him in the face. "Now's the part where you give her the ring, ya jackass!" His face lit up. "Oh yeah…" he pulled the ring out of the box and pushed it gently onto my finger, looking anxious once again. The ring was silver; three diamonds were embedded in the band and there were trinity knots etched into it.

"D'ya like it? It's not much, I mean…. I could get you something else if you wanted."

"Are you insane? No! I love it!" I smiled up at him, basking in the moment.

I heard Murphy say something that sounded mysteriously like 'told you so' and 'where's the whiskey?' The front door opened and Da walked in, finally making his appearance. He looked around, evidently unaware of what was going on.

Ma raised her hands in the air. "Noah! It's a bloody fucking miracle! They're getting married!" Da looked over at us and gave the first grin I had ever seen from the man, walking over to Ma and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Looks like ya done something right there, love." He said, the love he felt for her evident, grin never fading from his face. "Ya've done something right indeed."


	28. Dig

Disclaimer here.

**AN- SURPRISE! ANOTHER CHAPTER!**

**No, really, this chapter is a surprise even to me. I hadn't planned on writing another one, but this popped into my head out of nowhere, and it seemed like the ending I had actually been looking for. So...THIS is the real ending. (No, really. I mean it this time.) Again, thank you for reading and reviewing, you guys have been wonderful. =]**

**Connor POV**

_It's fucking freezing._

My eyes opened and fell on the open window, swinging slightly as a breeze fluttered in. I shivered as I rolled out of bed and closed the window, still half asleep and vaguely wondering why on earth I had left the damn thing open. As I turned to get back in bed, i caught something out the corner of my bleary eye. I looked back out the window; there was a light on in the barn, the door slightly ajar. I was fully awake now, feeling a sudden urge to go out there, like something was pulling me outside into the cold. I found the clothes I had been wearing earlier in the day and pulled them on, searching around blindly for my boots, only to trip over them and fall into the dresser with a loud thud.

There was a slight shift from the body on the bed. "What are you doing?" came Ericka's voice, muffled by the blankets she was wrapped up in. "Nothing love. Go back to sleep." I held my breath, hoping that she wouldn't fight me.

"Ok…" She muttered, already unconscious again. I watched her sleeping for a moment, feeling warmth spread throughout me. By some accounts, I was one of the world's unluckiest bastards- broken bones, bullet wounds, and called upon to carry out the grisly task of murdering bad guys. Yeah. Some would deem that unlucky.

I had to disagree with that particular notion; In that moment I felt very, _very _lucky.

I made my way through the old house, taking care to avoid the creaky floorboards; even after all these years, I had them memorized. Probably because Murphy and I snuck out so much as kids, it was a survival skill of sorts to know exactly which boards to avoid stepping on. I walked out the back door and walked over to the barn, feet sinking into the cold damp ground. I peered around the door and saw Murphy standing at a table, one hand in his pocket and the other one in front of his mouth. His eyes were squinted as he stared at the two black bags on the table.

"I can't sleep." He said, not even bothering to greet me. I stepped into the barn and walked over to him, my own arms crossed over my chest. I gave him a minute to collect his thoughts, standing there quietly. He finally sighed and shook his head, looking deflated, confused, and worried. "Are we really done, Conn?"

"Why wouldn't we be?"

He shrugged. "It just seems so….anticlimactic." He chuckled darkly. "You know, I honestly thought that we were going to keep going until someone got the better of us and killed us." He sighed and again and tapped his foot. "I just wonder if we should've quit is all."

"You didn't have to quit just because I wanted to." He shot me a sharp look.

"I quit because I wanted to, you prick." He squeezed his eyes tight before continuing. "I'm just saying…. I have a feeling God isn't done with us. I mean, maybe I'm wrong and he'll let us live the rest of our lives in peace… but I don't know. I don't fucking know what he wants from us, if we're supposed to give it all up and leave it to someone else, or if we're still supposed to kill every evil man we run across until we die." He shook his head, eyes filled with doubt and fear, like God was going to strike him down for voicing it aloud. I stood there, staring at the bags, not wanting to own up to the nagging feeling that had been circling around in my own head, making my stomach squirm.

We weren't done yet.

But until the time God showed up on our doorstep again, I didn't want to be looking our past in the face.

I left Murphy's side and started digging around the barn. _There's gotta be something….anything… God only knows there's enough shit in here. _Murphy called out to me as I found myself half buried in piles of wood and metal. "What are you doing?" I heard his footsteps behind me, shifting his weight around as if he was debating interfering with my excavation.

My hands found a deep wooden chest. Carefully I pulled it out of the pile I had been rooting through, picking it up. Murphy instantly caught onto my train of thought, running to the corner and returning with a couple shovels. I set the box on the table and grabbed my bag, pulling a gun out of it. The weight of it was imposing, yet comforting at the same time; In a sick way, it was sort of like having a very nosy and caring friend. Murphy was holding his gun, looking at it interested. "It's weird, ain't it?"

It took a while, but both of us wrapped up our guns (and in Murph's case, knife), setting them carefully in the box, bullets chucked in as an afterthought. Murphy glanced around the barn, shovel in hand. "Where do ya think we should put it?" I pointed to a corner.

"Over there work for ya?" He nodded and walked over, sticking his shovel in the ground and digging into it. I joined him; welcoming the burn in my arms that came with digging into compacted dirt. It was therapeutic. Eventually, after we were covered in dirt and sweat, there was a sizeable hole in the ground. Murphy dragged the box over and set it in hole, looking both relieved and conflicted. After considering for a moment, he pulled off his rosary and lifted up the lid of the box, setting it in with the rest of the contents. It seemed the appropriate thing to do, all things considered. I did the same and took a step back before piling the dirt on top of the box, burying the past, the bad memories and the hellish nightmare we had been living in for last year.

Murphy stood back when we were done, looking at his handiwork. Finally, he turned around and walked towards the barn door. I stared at the freshly dug up patch of dirt for a moment, already dreading the moment I would have to excavate the box.

But life would go on.

"Conn?" asked Murphy, leaning against the door frame. "You coming?"

"Yeah, Murph." I said slowly tearing my eyes away from the ground. "I'm coming.

Life would go on. And when God came calling again, I would answer.

We both would.


End file.
